The Great Manipulator
by Harmonious Cannons
Summary: Harry strays into the library's newspaper archives. The Hat wanted to put Harry into Slytherin. Harry was not just not stupid, he also was fairly clever if he wanted to be. Well, the Ministry needed a new player for quite sometime now. Not a bashing story. Part one - Sirius' freedom is complete. Irregular but not infrequent updates.
1. Chapter 1

Hi. This is **The-Kop-Who-Scoused** , **_again_** , making the most of my holiday time. This is a story starting in the second year, has no pairings till fourth year or later, but as usual, if it happens, it will be Harmony. No Lords. It will be just manipulation. The chapters will be in the 3000-6000 word range. Even if there might be millions of other stories like this, I am writing it. I can't write serious things, apparently. It is possible that the incidents/situations/solutions used may have originated elsewhere, due to that. So far as I know that should not be the case. If you encounter it somewhere else, in an older story, it will be put into recommendations in future stories. This first chapter is absolutely narrative and encapsulates the second year.

 **Oh, and by the way, different people are now writing/completing different stories on this account.** So just because I have posted, others may not necessarily do so. I'm the schoolboy with a dictionary and some time to spare. The rest of the writers, cousins, have jobs.

 **The Search and the Questions**

Harry was hiding. There had been another attack. This time the victims were Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington and Justin Flinch-Fletchley. Normally this would not have been a matter to make Harry hide – he had gone toe-to-toe with Voldemort last year, after all. But the situation was different now.

 _"_ _Curse Snape, Malfoy and Lockhart"_ , he thought viciously to himself, as he slinked away unseen from what seemed to be the whole school baying for his blood. _"Had to conjure a snake, didn't the git?"_

Well not the whole school. Hermione, Ron, the twins, Neville and the rest of the Quidditch team as well, were all supporting him. Unfortunately, that made them targets to the school's ire as well, which was why he had escaped. If he wasn't there, and they kept quiet as he had literally begged them to do, then surely they wouldn't be troubled by others, would they?

The Duelling Club had been an unmitigated disaster. His immediate move to drive the snake away from Justin had been instrumental in painting him as the Heir of Slytherin. Then Ernie McMillan had to be the one to see him find Justin and Nick petrified. _"How the bloody hell, do you petrify a ghost?"_ he wondered idly.

Dumbledore made a big deal about asking him whether he knew anything, and also trying to tell him that he knew Harry wasn't behind the attacks. Well, he bloody didn't intend to tell the others about it, did he?

And so it was that the Invisibility Cloak clad tween entered the hallowed silence of the library as a last resort and asylum from the prosecution and persecution. Madam Pince would probably throw Dumbledore out, **_physically_** , if he so much as attempted to disturb the delicate balance of silence in her domain, and she was shorter than the Headmaster by about a foot and half.

He roamed, invisibly, through the rows upon rows of shelves. Oh there were all sorts of books. There were books about subjects he didn't even know existed. And there were books upon subjects he thought should not exist. Why would anyone want to check the reaction of a horned-toad's spleen sprayed over a person before his intestines were boiled in his own blood? Why would anyone want to undertake that? Idle minds were the Devil's workshops indeed.

Then there was this book about omens. Harry had heard Hermione ramble on about the electives for the next year onwards which they would have to choose around Easter. Somehow, he already knew that Divination was going to get the short shrift from him. Honestly; he had to be afraid of a great, big black dog, or hound or whatever? He snickered as he corrected himself. Were he in the place of Sir, Charles Baskerville, he would, probably, be afraid. But Harry knew it would at best be a large beastie going mad due to being clad in phosphorous.

The stray thought made him think of his friends. He was sure that Ron would go berserk. Trying to make fun of something that the magicals clung to stupidly would be nigh on blasphemous. Neville would fidget, wanting to agree with Ron, given his magical upbringing, but unable to resist the logic, and therefore just keep quiet. Hermione would give him that cheeky grin they shared in private when the magical world's stupidity amused them beyond measure.

He passed those shelves over, and instead reached the newspaper archives. He was surprised. All along, he had thought that The Daily Prophet was the only national publication. Here were stacks of The Daily Prophet, The Omen Reader, which was a weekly and more importantly a political commentary, The Times of Magic, which had been a pilot project by a muggleborn, apparently, because it had several scathing editorials about pureblood supremacy (hmm... that was interesting; it seemed the idea was present post Voldemort's temporary 'death' as well), **_and_** it was abruptly shut down one day. Oh yes. They must have 'closed' the mouth that talked.

It was also obvious that the magicals thought about money only in terms of getting it and spending it. Honestly, if there was The Daily Prophet, why wasn't there The Daily Profit?

Truth be told, Harry was not stupid – at least, he certainly wasn't as stupid as he let on. He also did not abhor reading as he had shown his companions.

The fact was that he had once attempted to read newspapers. Of course, Vernon took them away. Freaks didn't deserve to know about the world around them, after all. When he came to Hogwarts, he had borrowed the papers from Oliver, who was the only sort-of-friend who had a subscription. The Daily Prophet was unmitigated Ministry-propaganda and sensationalist drivel. Of course, he hadn't thought of things in those terms, but every muggle-raised person had a sense of very heavy scepticism against politics and governments as such. There was only so much he could read without grinding his teeth at the praise that the paper accorded the Ministry. Rightly or wrongly, the antipathy towards the government in the Magical World followed. He never bothered to read again. The antipathy mellowed down to apathy.

With Hogwarts proving to be more of an adventure than he had envisaged, his apathy as a member of the magical public extended to not even bothering to remember Fudge, the Minister elected in 1989, and dismissed by Hagrid as a bungler when the gigantic man had come to fetch him the year before.

Harry sat down at a table and started reading. One could never know enough about the world. He read everyday thereafter. It also saved him a fair few galleons on the subscriptions.

* * *

Over the next month, Harry spent more and more time sequestered in his corner of the library. Knowing that he would need an alibi if the spate of attacks did not subside, this corner was right opposite the table that the three elves used to sort and stack books. The elves were wonderful. It was funny how he never paid them attention before. Tippy, Timmy and Biffy were excellent, walking and talking catalogues all by themselves. When a wizard condescended to give them attention like respected aid-givers, they were all the more helpful.

For all his efforts, though, his alibi was not established, for there was no attack. All the same, people felt safer when they could see him doing something as mundane as reading a newspaper, writing in notebooks using the funny quills, or doing homework. Harry, indeed, had taken to making notes about inconsistency upon inconsistency he had seen in various reports. He had been introduced to the concept of Death Eaters. He had a ready list of people suspected to be amongst them. He also had a list of victims. It was interesting to note that though they were pro-pureblood supremacy terrorists, most of their targets and victims were purebloods.

He also learnt about a man named Sirius Black. When Harry read about him first, it was in the newspaper dated the thirteenth of November, 1981. It had taken a while for him to cool down. This was the man who had betrayed his parents. Dumbledore himself had testified so in court. This was the man who had sold them out to Voldemort. He had not revisited the subject, because his anger had led him to rather cruelly imaginative daydreams about what he would do once he got his hands on the man. Peter Pettigrew, out to avenge his parents' deaths, temporarily became Harry's hero.

With Hermione sent to the hospital wing though, after her unfortunate but hilarious (Harry made sure that he did not laugh with anyone around; that had to count for something) transformation into a part-cat, he had to have something to occupy his time for the week she was in the infirmary for. It was during this time that he learnt more about the three years between 1978 and 1981 – the time period during which his parents were out of school and alive. Set theory he may not have learnt, but it was intuitive that to learn about their roles – and they had to have some role, if people remembered them fondly – in the war, that was the period he had to learn about.

And learn he did. He learnt that his parents were among the only four people who had faced Voldemort in battle and lived to tell the tale – not once; not twice; but **_three_** times! He wondered whether Neville knew that his parents were the other two. Now that he came to think of it, he hadn't ever heard Neville talk about them. He smelt a story there. Days later, when he learnt the fate that had befallen them, he would cringe at that instinct.

What was even more interesting was that in the latter two times, that man, Sirius Black, had not only fought by his parents' side, but had landed the curse that drove away Voldemort, and decimated an abandoned building behind him. Sirius Black had **_injured_** Voldemort, grievously.

The simmering rage that he held gave way to intrigue. Why had Sirius Black turned traitor? And so he went back to the papers post-Halloween 1981. The newspapers did not contain trial transcripts, of course, but there had to be something that he had overlooked before; something that he had missed. It was going to be seemingly insignificant.

And there it was. In every other case that he read about, including the one about Lucius Malfoy, Benjamin Nott and many other people that were now considered the pillars of society, there was one line that stood out: The defendant pled 'not guilty', owing to being under the thrall of the Imperius Curse. There were medical proofs presented in court that this was true. Harry frowned. Anyone with eyes could see that Lucius Malfoy was still a Death Eater in everything he did.

And _Minister Fudge and he supported each other._ That was a difficulty; a very big difficulty. People never liked to hear things which would mean that they had done something or believed in something that was wrong. Fudge would never hear a word against Malfoy.

There were other Death Eaters as well. Not all of them went scot-free. All of them had 'pled guilty' in their trials, according to the newspaper reports about them.

Sirius Black's report had no such sentence. It was all a lot of bluster about his betrayal, eulogies to Harry's family and lots of waffle about reconstructing the magical world. But Harry knew that his sleuthing had revealed something. What that something was he didn't know.

The three Lestranges, Dolohov, a bloke called Rookwood and several others were the Death Eaters under the auspices of Azkaban, the Wizard Prison where Sirius Black now lived. It was guarded by Dementors. A quick search about them revealed information about the darkest creatures on earth.

The Lestranges had been arrested along with a boy called Bartemius Crouch Junior for torturing Neville's parents to insanity. It had been something that he had shared with Hermione and Ron after making them promise that they would never speak about it. Neville, the boy on the periphery, had become included into their close-knit group slowly by February.

This Crouch was an interesting case again. The boy's father was the then Head of the DMLE. The man had apparently not batted an eyelid while sentencing his son to Azkaban. Yet a few days later, he and his dying wife had visited the son. Three days later, both Junior and his mother had died.

It did not sit well with Harry. It absolutely didn't. He didn't believe in coincidences, and for the healthy convict and the terminally ill patient to die simultaneously was too fishy to be a coincidence.

What he also noticed though, was the fact that Crouch Sr. was a shoo-in for the top job. And Crouch Jr. had made him lose it. And even now, so many years later, Crouch was the main, if seemingly uninterested contender, and Minister Fudge's chief rival. That had to mean and count for something.

* * *

By the end of April, the newspaper clues had dwindled. Even if they hadn't, there were more important things to occupy his thoughts. Hermione had been attacked. And now, after the unwilling distance he had put between himself and his friends, with the prospect of her probably never waking from that petrifaction hurt. It hurt insanely. He had distanced himself from them because he didn't want them attacked by other people. But he had forgotten about the Heir of Slytherin. And why was she attacked?

What ensued was an adventure of a lifetime, involving Acromantula, semi-sentient enchanted cars, framed half-giants, suspended Headmasters, mad diary-inhabiting, little girl-possessing, un-dead Dark Lords, gigantic basilisks, and a happy phoenix with a hero-complex.

As Harry hugged Hermione – or to be precise – as Hermione imitated a constrictor snake with Harry as her prey, one thought was making itself known to his mind. Somehow, he had to set things right. Why him? He didn't know. How? He didn't know that either. But somehow, it had to be done. And by Merlin, if only to take those people who were priming Magical Britain for subjugation by Voldemort when he returned – and he would, Harry knew – he would do it. And he had to be seen as a good person as he went about it, by everyone.

Had the Sorting Hat heard his thoughts, it would have laughed. It was not necessary for Harry to be in Slytherin to be great. Gryffindor worked just as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Find-Outer, the Dog and the Family**

A/N: No accent for Stan Shunpike. The timeline used here is Harry running into Fudge on the **7** **th** **of August.** Also, there's no bashing. If Dumbledore is OOC, then it is because Madam Rowling wanted him good and he turned out to be a manipulative coot in the books.

* * *

When Harry sat on his trunk on the pavement and growled at Marge in absentia, he really didn't expect an answering growl. He turned around swiftly to come face-to-face with a huge black dog. _Alright_ , he thought to himself, _that book was right. In the dead of the night, I would be scared to death of this one. Sorry I made fun of you, Sir Charles_.

Aloud he muttered, "I get away from a dog breeder and come face to face with this one. Someone, somewhere out there is laughing themselves silly over this, I know." Turning to the dog, he called out, "Come here boy!"

And on cue, the dog did come to Harry, its tongue hanging out and tail wagging. It was then that Harry had a good look at it...him. He was emaciated, just fur and bones. He had silver eyes. Harry wondered whether the dog was blind and was just following his voice. But then the dog nudged Harry's wand-hand, making the boy entertain the thought that the dog was magical, before he dismissed the thought, thinking it just wanted to play fetch the stick. What kind of dog wanted to play fetch the stick at night?

The wand held aloft, however, had a different kind of reaction. A purple bus materialised out of thin air with a bang. Having read up on werewolves having their apparition traces tracked, Harry knew what apparition was, in the first place. All the same, he didn't think buses could apparate or if anyone could apparate them. This was the Knight Bus, he knew, but it was about as popular as lettuce and broccoli ice cream.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board) and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening. Who are you, kid?" Stan asked as he dropped his professional manner. "You are a kid and all and all alone."

"Thank you Stan. I am Mark Wright." It was the safe way. His first instinct while making an alternate persona while on the run from the law would have been to call himself by the name of another Hogwarts student, but Stan Shunpike was unlikely to know a Liverpool forward, so that was what he went with. "I need to go to the Leaky Cauldron. I am meeting up with friends tomorrow morning, I am."

That was enough, apparently, for Stan. "That dog yours?" he asked.

Harry looked down to where the massive stray was looking at him in a way that could only be described as hopeful. The dog even accentuated that with a slobbery lick to his palm and frantic tail wagging. Harry sighed.

"Yes, I guess." He simply didn't have the heart to shoo away the dog. So for twenty five sickles, the boy and dog slammed away to the Leaky Cauldron. Of course, it was the dog that happily lapped up all the hot chocolate, leaving the boy to ruminate upon his dismal summer.

The summer had been the worst since Hogwarts started, and having been consigned to house arrest, with bars on windows, locked doors and cat-flaps for food the previous summer, that was saying something. Marge the Barge was a rotten cherry on the mouldy cake. What bothered him most, though, was the escape of Sirius Black. He of course had seen and heard about it from the TV news and had seen the picture. It was **_the_** Sirius Black, alright.

That apart, he had also taken up a two month subscription of the Daily Prophet and The Omen Reader (which was a godsend, as it had been since November; he had to learn many new words from the dictionary for that, and also change his language to make it pleasing for people to hear, if he did speak. The Omen Reader was the template. It had also helped him improve his essays).

It had only served to poke more holes into any case against Sirius Black. Really, they needed to just think a little bit.

Bloke 'A' chases bloke B. B shouts at bloke A and calls him a traitor. Then after such a damning indictment, A blows up B and a bunch of bystanders. All the others have several body parts lying around, save B. The only evidence of the previous existence of B is one meticulously _cut_ finger. The Prophet had taken the efforts to print an image of the finger. It wasn't blasted off – it was cut.

It had made Harry think he should reach out to Sirius Black, after all. It was an absurd thought. He didn't know much about the man, but if he drove Voldemort away to help his dad, and was innocent, he at least deserved whatever help Harry gave him. If not, well, it wasn't as if he himself wasn't on the run from the law for breaching the Decree for Justified Restriction of Underage Magic, was it?

As if there was a massive cosmic joke going on, a very high-profile dignitary was waiting at the door to The Leaky Cauldron. Harry idly mused as he resigned himself to being arrested by the Minister of Magic in person, that the acronym for The Leaky Cauldron was TLC, shared by many things related to travel, living and tourism. The Leaky Cauldron though, was as un-touristy as such an establishment could get.

It was a further half an hour before the Minister plied him with some food and bundled him off to the room reserved by Tom for Harry's use for the rest of the summer. It was only when the Minister was about to leave that Harry had gathered his wits. This was the chance he wanted to get a toehold, at least, into Ministry working. Perhaps it would ruffle quite a few feathers, but if he had great ambitions, then he had to back it up with some recklessness.

"Um...uh...Mr. Minister?" he called shyly.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Sir, if you have some time during the rest of the summer, may I have an appointment, sir?"

The Minister's genial persona, assumed for the word-of-mouth publicity that Tom would generate when he told everyone how the Minister had personally ensured Harry Potter's safety, melted slightly. "Of course," he replied a little late, if just as affably as he had spoken for the rest of the evening.

"Thank you, sir. It is just that, I...I think there is some threat to you and some of your advisors, sir, which has been overlooked. It's the least I can do to thank you for your personal intervention."

The Minister's geniality absconded.

Having lived with Vernon and his volatile temper for long enough, Harry knew what was coming, even if it was unlikely that the Minister would shout. Steeling himself a bit, he continued, "Please understand sir. It wasn't because I didn't want to say it. I mean...I'm just a kid, sir. If I tell some adult my theory, I will be dismissed out of hand. Who would believe me?"

Some amount of colour diminished from Cornelius' face. "I understand," he said quietly. "Please speak. At the very least, I can lend you a patient ear."

"Thank you, sir. I found some inconsistencies regarding an escaped Death Eater..."

"You mean Black?"

"No sir. That's where everyone seems to have gotten it wrong. I don't think Black is the first, **_living_** person to escape from Azkaban."

The dog, sitting on its haunches, had tensed quite a bit upon seeing the Minister. Thankfully, its presence had gone unremarked upon. Now that Harry was talking to the Minister, it sat back and listened attentively. The Minister too was in the same position.

"Please send a letter home for me, Tom, and to the Ministry, and tell them that I'll be late. Thank you. And this should not spread." The barkeeper hurried off.

The Minister cast several privacy charms on the room before solemnly motioning for Harry to speak and verbally permitting, "Speak Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, sir. And please, call me Harry." The young Potter retrieved the notes pertaining to the Crouches that he had made and passed them on to the Minister.

"Sir, I understand that at the moment, and even at the time of your election, you were not the first choice." The words were blunt and naively so.

Cornelius winced, but decided that he was talking to a teenager, after all, so he would have to get down to that level. "Yes. Bartemius Crouch Senior was primed for the post..."

"...till his son turned out to be a Death Eater," Harry completed knowingly. "That is the Death Eater I am talking about."

"But he is dead!" Fudge protested irritably.

"Without thorough investigation, and at face value, I would have said the same, sir. That's why I have handed you the notes I made."

Cornelius flipped through them in exasperated indulgence. Then he froze. He read through the notes again, this time very carefully.

"Most curious..." he murmured. "This is most curious indeed."

Harry waited patiently, as Fudge went through the notes a third time.

Looking up at the boy, Cornelius asked with a predatory gleam in his eyes, "May I keep these and tip my advisors off about these notes?"

"No sir." Cornelius looked highly affronted. Harry hastened to pacify. "Sir, your advisors comprise of people who were cleared under the Imperius Curse."

"Lucius Malfoy is no more a Death Eater than I am!"

Harry had to stifle his own predatory smile. He had Fudge exactly where he wanted him. "I am not accusing Mr. Malfoy of any such misdemeanour sir. Please let me explain." Fudge let out a huff of impatience and annoyance. "Sir, if, as I believe, this Bartemius Crouch Junior is alive, and obviously his father has to know about it, then he is a threat."

"Yes."

"And who is a prime example for Bartemius Crouch to threaten, apart from me? Let me tell you. It will be those cleared of such heinous deeds because they were not in control of themselves. He will consider that as treachery to his Lord and Master. Now people like Mr. Malfoy are further up the totem of his targets, because they have children and are wealthy. And obviously, they will be soft targets. I may be wrong, of course, but this is what criminals in the muggle world do, sir."

Both the dog and the Minister stilled for absolutely different reasons.

"Merlin!" breathed Cornelius at last. "I never thought of that!"

"That's the point. If you, sir, a person who bears the responsibility for the protection of the magical world couldn't have anticipated it, how can your advisors guard against such an unknown?"

Fudge puffed up at the praise. He looked at the boy who had given him the weapon to decisively destroy Crouch appraisingly. "Let us assume that you are wrong. What would you do?"

"Well, sir, I would first protect my advisors and supporters from the fallout. If it becomes obvious that I was working to protect them, even if I lost the post, I would have goodwill and support increased a lot. People will look for the positives, of course."

Cornelius nodded. The Daily Prophet could always be leant upon to give a positive twist in his favour. Old Barnabas Cuffe had too many skeletons in his closet.

"If, on the other hand, I am right, **_you_** will have protected **_everyone_** from a Death Eater at large. You will have taken a clever decision to protect the people and show the public that you are serious about what you are doing. Who would then worry with you in place? The course of action would be to **_not_** take your usual advisors into confidence. It keeps them safe, right from the start. You will be making a great sacrifice for them, that way. You have Madam Bones in place. She is a highly decorated and capable Head of the DMLE. If you relay these notes to her, of course after you ensure her loyalty to **_justice_** , she will have to investigate. In that case – since you can put the matter to her more effectively than a simple kid like I am, ever can – you will come out smelling of roses, irrespective of whether or not I am right. You will be seen as the Minister who will leave no stone unturned for the protection of the people."

Cornelius nodded. The boy was right. By Merlin, he was right! Whatever happened, he would not lose. Well, he stood to lose his position, but not his power! And the boy might not know it, but Bones was a rival too, though she really was uninterested. If this failed, he could easily push it all on her, and make the boy beholden to him by protecting him and letting him know. He was already making plans regarding how he would use the positive publicity generated by the Boy-Who-Lived vouching for him.

"I will look into this, Harry. Rest assured I will always look out for the protection of the people by whose mandate I occupy my position."

"Thank you, sir, both for your promise and your time."

"It is not a bother at all, Harry. I shall be in touch." With that, the Minister left. The dog, still listening on, was interested as to where all this would lead.

* * *

A very fruitful week later, in which Harry completed his homework and helped around with almost every shop in the Diagon Alley, earning goodwill and freebies with his unassuming and modest nature and scraps for the ever-present stray that was his tag-along, he was shown into the room Fudge had occupied during their previous meeting. During the same week, the dog, now named Blackie, was also the silent companion and sounding board for the ambitious young man.

If the man had been slightly worried about Harry and mostly worried about whether or not his attempt at self-aggrandisement worked the last time, he was all smiles this time.

"Harry!" The Minister called jovially, coming across the table to shake Harry's hand. "It really is a pleasure to meet you today." The man even gave Harry's canine companion a benevolent pat.

"Thank you, sir?" It was phrased as a question to show that he was confused, but in reality, Harry was pretty confident what had happened.

Fudge caught on to the tone quite quickly. "This is about the matter you brought up last week. I will cut straight to the chase. As you were the vigilant person who brought it to our notice, I didn't want you to know about it through the Prophet. We have arrested both Bartemius Crouch Junior and his father, just as you had told me!"

Harry gave the man a genuine, beaming smile. "That is absolutely great sir!" Then, realising his objectives, set about laying more groundwork. "All credit goes to you, sir, for such prompt action! I am sure we, the people of magical Britain sleep soundly owing to your efforts!"

Cornelius could have wet his pants owing to the deluge of praise from the Boy-Who-Lived. He too had a part to play as a politician, though. "Oh, pish-posh!" he said, waving a hand to emphasise his brushing away of the praise. "A good Minister always listens to the concerns of the citizens. It is vigilant citizens such as you who are to be praised!"

Harry stuttered a bit in a show of modesty. "Surely you exaggerate, sir!"

"Nonsense!" cried Fudge, as he continued with the glad-handling. "It is praise richly deserved!"

In the end, both departed with the feeling that they had gained an ally, which was true. Harry had just helped a man legally eliminate his most feared ally. Fudge was now content in the belief that he had the support of Harry Potter. On a balance though, Harry had won more. Fudge merely won praise for doing something that they had dropped the quaffle on. Harry, who had reasoned away any award that Fudge had in mind as going against the Ministry, gained an adult in power who was now honour bound to listen.

The dog decided that it would be time very soon.

* * *

Harry sat in his room feeling slightly – well, not really slightly – smug, that evening. His first attempt had paid off. He might have had some beginner's luck, but the truth was that he had confidence in his investigations and he had taken the gamble, and it had paid off.

"You know, Blackie? That was just the first salvo. It's funny. Malfoy has Fudge in his pockets, but I took away one of his friends. Now irrespective of whether or not he agrees, he has to accept it. Malfoy can't be seen supporting a threat to his darling son." He laughed lightly, before he subsided with a pensive frown. "Now I am going to go after Sirius Black."

The dog did his utmost to not still under Harry's hands as the boy ran his hand through Blackie's fur.

"There is something wrong with all the reports. Don't get me wrong. I am not claiming that he is innocent. But I am pretty sure he hasn't had a trial."

The dog gave a small 'woof' in unbridled wonder.

"Yes. It is outrageous. You know, he once saved my dad from Voldemort when he landed a nasty curse on that horrible thing. If for nothing else, then only as a courtesy, I want Black to have a trial. Of course, if he isn't innocent, I want to ask Black why he did it."

It was time, the dog decided. It scampered away from Harry and piled up some ash from the fireplace. Harry watched in wonder and fear, as the dog rearranged the ash into letters that read, "Harry, don't be afraid."

"You aren't a dog," was all Harry had time to say, before he made a spirited attempt to not get scared as Blackie transformed into Sirius Black.

* * *

"So," Harry affirmed slowly, "not only are you innocent, but also you are my godfather who could have raised me instead of those Dursleys? You were framed? And the man they said you killed but you didn't kill and who killed all the others is alive and is living as Ron's pet?" It had been a massive scare when the dog had transformed. But the man was not deranged, nor had he attacked Harry. To the boy's credit, he had managed to keep his head, as the Prisoner of Azkaban had explained the situation to him.

"Yes," Sirius replied simply.

"I would say you are mad, but I really do want you to be my innocent godfather."

Sirius beamed. "Thank you," he rasped.

"But I need more proof than a photograph. You don't have a wand, at the moment, so that is a plus. I have to have someone you trust and who you know has not trusted you at all."

"Well, I will go one better. I'll get you some- _two_. Do you mind if I use your owl?"

"Innocent or not, you are my godfather. If Hedwig trusts you, that's half the battle won."

"I am writing a letter to a man called Remus Lupin. You go and firecall Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?" asked Harry. "Didn't he depose against you?"

"That's because we had placed a spell on him. I hold the password. James and Lily did as well. We thought we were being so clever...were we certainly weren't being as clever as you have been. Crouch was the one who put me in without a trial. So thank you for that as well."

* * *

Sirius Black writing a letter to anyone was a disaster waiting to happen. Depending on the urgency, the man could write in poetic prose or eschew it for a threat. Remus Lupin was sweating bullets as he read the letter Hedwig had delivered.

 _Remus,_

 _I've got Harry at the Leaky Cauldron in room number eleven. Come fast. I am waiting._

 _Sirius_

Remus swore roundly as he dressed and disapparated.

On its own, the letter was just a short innocuous note. With the background of the writer being a supposed murderer and betrayer of Harry's parents, Remus Lupin could be forgiven when he thought that Sirius had kidnapped Harry.

* * *

"Are you there, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Ah, Harry my boy, you are calling from the Cauldron, I see."

"Yes sir. There is a situation of particular interest, sir."

That piqued Dumbledore's interest. "Is there now?" The man's eyes twinkled. "Is this about the Crouches? I had Cornelius over just a few minutes ago."

That put Harry back a pace before he recovered. "Uh...no, sir, it is not about that. This is closer home. Can you just come please? It is room eleven."

"Of course," the Headmaster acquiesced. "And Harry, it was an excellent way to get Cornelius on your side, if I may say so," the old man added with a chuckle.

"Thank you, sir. He will find Lucius Malfoy an unpalatable advisor soon enough. I remember Hagrid telling me that the Minister inundated you with letters asking for advice."

Dumbledore smiled at the implication, and also about the fact that it was Harry who would actually be the advisor, _and_ about the fact that Harry had never complimented him, but had learnt to make it seem as if he had. "Well played, Harry," he chuckled. "You started with The Omen Reader, I take it?"

"Yes."

"That's another thing we have in common. It does help with the essays doesn't it? Minerva was surprised, but I understand now."

"Yeah it does." Dumbledore nodded. Harry moved away from the fire as Dumbledore stretched and walked towards the fireplace to travel to the Cauldron.

"Wait! That paper is older than you?" Harry asked in absolute wonder.

The Headmaster threw his head back and laughed heartily. Wiping away his tears of mirth, he said, "I suppose I must seem like an ancient relic to you, don't I?"

"Uh, well, I didn't mean that sir."

"No, of course you didn't. You forgot our old friends Nicholas and Perenelle?"

Harry smiled sheepishly.

"Well let me tell you a secret, young Harry, I thought the same about them as well." The Headmaster and pupil shared a snicker at that.

"So what is this issue?"

"I think it would be best for you to meet him."

"Meet him? What have you got yourself into now?"

At that moment, there was a loud 'crack' and a man in shabby clothes appeared into the pub. People looked at him angrily, but Remus paid them no mind as he stood and attempted to rush off. Instead he bumped straight into Dumbledore's back.

"Dumbledore!" exclaimed Remus.

"Ah, Remus, so kind of you to join us," Albus replied genially. "Did you call him as well?"

"No sir. That would be my guest."

"Then lead us on, by all means."

And so, the schoolboy, Headmaster and the stupefied defence teacher walked on to room eleven.

* * *

As the door opened, a big black dog bounded at Remus and knocked him over. In the next instant, the dog had been physically thrown aside and Remus stood pointing his wand at it.

Sirius transformed back to his human form. "Bloody hell Moony!" he swore. "That wasn't required, you know!"

"I suppose there is a good story here?" It was posed as a question, but it was said in the "I-am-the-headmaster-and-chief-warlock-and-in control" voice.

"Yes sir," replied a slightly winded Sirius. "Your colourful robes are less colourful than the language you use when angry."

Dumbledore suddenly paled. He then gasped as he grasped at his head and sat down heavily with his eyes glazed over. It took a minute for him to recover.

"That was the password?" Harry asked curiously.

"Have you ever heard him swear?"

"No. But the flowery language he uses makes me want to swear."

"There is that. But you should listen to Dumbledore in battles involving a bunch of people on the other side. I think he could out-gloat and out-swear Mouldy-Shorts."

"I am not sure I want to see that, really."

"That would suck," Sirius agreed.

Poor Remus was left looking at each of the three people in bewilderment.

"Sirius, my poor boy!" lamented Albus, and this time it was not just his usual way of calling someone 'his boy'. It was actual, genuine sorrow. "I am sorry! Please forgive me!" There were actual tears in Dumbledore's eyes.

"JUST WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" Remus hollered.

In answer, Sirius retrieved the photograph of the Weasleys and handed it to his oldest living **_friend_**. "Look at the boy's pet."

Remus took one look at the picture and gasped, "Wormtail!" He looked up at Sirius as his mind connected the dots. "That means he was the one! Oh my God Padfoot! I am sorry!"

"Everyone seems to be," Sirius replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Nobody bothered to check the wills though."

"I did," answered Dumbledore. "We couldn't open them."

Sirius' sheepish face was answer enough for them to realise what must have happened.

"Since the situation seems to be getting resolved, may I ask a few questions?"

"Yes?"

"You tagged along from Surrey, Sirius. Hogwarts is only a few hundred kilometres closer to Azkaban. Wouldn't it have been useful to go straight to Dumbledore? And secondly, if you knew the Headmaster and Mr. Lupin here are trustworthy, why not ask them to purchase Scabbers from the Weasleys?"

Sirius looked at Harry dumbfounded and his eyes glazed over. Remus looked at him weirdly. "Padfoot; what's happening?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Lupin. It is his reaction to logic."

* * *

The next few days were fairly uneventful, to a large extent. It chiefly consisted of Remus, Sirius and Harry catching up with each other. For the former two, it also included a fair few fist fights, which always ended up with Sirius getting decisively hammered and grinning like a lunatic.

They also attended the reading of Harry's parents' Will. Dumbledore revealed that he had declared the wills of James and Lily Potter sealed because nobody knew how to open them. The solution was more juvenile cleverness. A similar password to the one which released the geas on Dumbledore was to activate the wills. Again, Sirius was the only living person who knew them.

It turned out to have a whole list of people that were designated to be Harry's caregivers. Sirius was on it. Remus wasn't, but that was because the man was a werewolf. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick were on it, but it turned out they were still trying to get a law that denied sanctuary to orphans at Hogwarts repealed. Neville's parents were of course beyond anyone's help. Harry didn't know who Andromeda Tonks was. It turned out Sirius and the Blacks were Harry's cousins on his paternal grandmother's side.

The last family was a shocker. It was the Weasleys. It turned out that Ron's grandmother and Harry's grandmother were cousins. So the Weasleys were actually family. Plus, James grandmother (His father's mother) was a Prewett, and she was Molly Weasley's Aunt. So the Weasleys actually were family, twice over.

When the Weasleys returned on the 30th, Harry promptly bought Pettigrew off them in exchange for an owl. They were going to wait till Halloween before Dumbledore would provide this new evidence.

Harry did ask Molly about the familial relation. Ginny's face when she found out that they were so closely related made everyone think she had eaten a hairball that Crookshanks, Hermione's new orange tiger had spat (Hermione of course was elated – both that Harry had a family and that she had an inordinately smug tiger masquerading as a cat). The other Weasleys were happy. The boy they had adopted as an honorary little brother was a younger cousin after all.

Molly's answer was a surprise. "Of course I knew you were family, Harry. Why else do you think I was waiting on the platform for you? You don't honestly think I go about shouting at muggle railway platforms do you?"

Harry scratched the back of his head absently. "You know I never thought about that before..."

Molly gave a watery smile. "We had been waiting for you of course. James had asked me to look after you, if it came to that. He was just three years behind my brothers, Fabian and Gideon, and they were born many years after I was, so we weren't exactly friends. I was already an old woman to them, I suppose," she recounted in fond reminiscence. "We wanted to adopt you, but there was a law that prevented that. They actually passed it in January 1982, in an emergency session at that. If the family income is less than a thousand galleons per person per year, the family can't have another child, naturally or by adoption. And they have kept Arthur's salary to exactly nine thousand, seven hundred and fifty galleons. They still count Bill and Charlie, though Arthur doesn't have to provide for them," she added sadly.

"But why didn't you ever tell me? I would have hated the Ministry for its laws, but at least I would have known family!"

"I had toyed with the idea, briefly. We also knew where you lived, Dumbledore had told us after all. But he had had to register the closest area of apparition with the Ministry. So when we apparated near your home, we were quickly followed by Walden McNair. He is a Death Eater. He works for the Ministry, but as an animal executioner. What business did he have? We were afraid for you. So we never came again. But when you came to the Burrow last year, you were so thin, so small. I would have given you the same answer I gave you today, for that is the truth, but I couldn't. I would have given you hope that it could happen in the future, and then what? It would have been too cruel. So I fell back to treating you as Ron's best friend, and tried to mother you as best as I could."

Harry felt devastated. He couldn't fault Mrs. Weasley, really, for even her grown-up logic made sense. She herself was distraught. _Well_ , he decided, as he hugged her lightly and as she responded in kind with her trademark hug, _this was another thing I am going to get the Ministry to change_.

* * *

This story has no pairings till fourth year or later, but as usual, **_if_** it happens, it will be Harmony. That aspect is absolutely unimportant to the story, since it is _**not** **under the Romance genre**_. Harmony is easy to write because I don't have to flesh out a character JKR didn't tell us much about (so no Ginny or Daphne or Susan or whoever else), and because Harmony has the aspect of two muggle-raised people discovering the magical world together and applying their other-worldly knowledge in it.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Milking Way – I**

A/N for later: Lifted the way to protect the Weasleys and deal with Pettigrew from Harmonious' Put into Lifetime Detention by Death.

Also, Harmony is hinted but won't start till fourth year or later. Some additional details and effects are included to fill the time till the major incident. This chapter was supposed to be longer. But where it ended, it simply felt too wrong to add anything.

Thanks to geetac, k3sava, Kairan1979, alix33, poseidonprince, angelofheaven001,and davycrockett100, and the two guests for their reviews, and to everyone, who favourited and followed.

* * *

It was not two days into the new term, and Harry had already learnt two very important lessons – well, several, in fact.

The first was that opportunities to get things done the way you want them to be do not always come gift wrapped. They rarely even came normally or in a way that would make it seem as if they had slunk under the radar. In fact, they came in the form of real bogeymen as well. The Dementor on the train – the Minister for all his bluster, had not seen fit to warn his vigilant citizen about this particular addition to the Hogwarts arsenal – had been the stuff of nightmares, quite literally.

To his utter mortification, Harry had fainted. It was only when Professor Lupin drove the creature away with something silvery, as his friends reported, that the creature had even stopped homing in on Harry like a snake homing in on its prey with the help of its heat sensors. Of course, the news had spread through the gossip network that existed. It made one wonder whether the walls actually had ears. Even if they didn't the portraits probably more than made up for them. The fussing over by Madam Pomfrey delayed him from the feast. That added credence to the rumours that refused to die down, once again making him the cynosure of everyone's attention.

The second thing he learnt was that he was stupid in that situation. The whole situation was an opportunity. And there was nothing he found more shameful than the fact that he had been taught that the situation was an opportunity by his schoolyard nemesis, Draco Malfoy.

The white-haired ponce had gone out swaggering to Hagrid's first class with the very intention of destroying the man's credibility and confidence. He had been warned about the streak of pride that Hippogriffs had. He had been warned to behave more sensibly. Of course, that was an invitation for him to choose the way to do so.

Draco had provided a masterclass in milking the situation for more than it was worth and getting away with it. He very purposely baited the semi-sentient beast, earning a talon-rapping in the process. Having dealt with worse, ninety percent of the class was convinced that Malfoy was faking it. All the same, he got away.

It had taken a week's observation for Harry to learn Draco's technique. Just because he loathed Malfoy on principle, and because he now loathed him even more because of what he did to Hagrid, there was no reason to miss this opportunity to learn an important trick in the art of manipulation. For all that Draco depended chiefly on Daddy dearest, the boy did have a sliver of cunning, after all.

Harry observed how he had Pansy Parkinson simpering away and fussing over him. That honestly was one thing he did not get, because even though he had crossed the threshold of teenage, he still didn't find being babied by a girl very manful. He was a boy after all, and still learning how public sympathy worked however.

That apart though, it was really clever how Draco swaggered around with people doing his bidding. His self-assigned carers, not including his beefy minions, were voluntarily waiting on him hand-and-foot, garnering more sympathy for him within the house, creating doubt among those who were on the fence about the seriousness of the 'injury' and thumbing their collective nose and smirking at those who could do nothing but grind their teeth in anger at the ponce.

Of course, there had to be something they got in return, which it turned out was a cut from Draco's pocket.

That immediately meant making better friends with more people around him. There were several common subjects to work with. And between Hermione, all the Weasleys, the Quidditch team and most of Gryffindor, Harry learnt he would have readymade help if he ever got into a situation he could milk. Plus they were Gryffindors; they would likely help him on principle or a few goodies from Honeydukes' instead of money.

The lesson learnt, in conclusion, was the same one he should have learnt from the behaviours of Petunia and Dinky Diddidums, Harry realised. Petunia had the added relationship of motherhood as she pandered to Dudley's tantrums and when she kissed away his boo-boos. Tantrums were again terrible things when freaks threw them. He had learnt that at age three, and _that_ particular lesson had been seared into his memory.

A secondary lesson was that incentive varied with age groups, relationships with the people around you, and their motivations. This was a much better lesson to learn.

The third thing he learnt – more like guessed – was that Hermione was performing dark magic. He knew she was in Arithmancy as the same time as she was with Ron in divination. While he liked his best friend, and thought the world of her brains and scholastic and magical prowess, even she did not have the skills to be at two places at the same time for there was no magic in the books that he had seen her use which contained it. Then he chastised himself. If Hermione used dark magic, then he was a puffskein. She had taken everything and he remembered that McGonagall had taken her aside as well on the evening of the 1st of September, so it was something that was known to her as well and both had decided upon secrecy.

That taught him to not _assume_. It was a massive flaw. It was funny how Sir Doyle's works gave the gospels of eternal truth to live life by. He didn't consider all facts, so he shouldn't have theorised. He had twisted the few facts he had initially remembered to make them fit his theory of Hermione using Dark Magic.

She still existed at two places at the same time, however, and that was a conundrum Harry was unsure whether he should devote much time to.

The fourth and last thing he learnt when he thought of Draco's behaviour and Hermione's secret in conjunction, completely bamboozled him and made him doubt his own sanity because of the way that this new fact was on a completely different plane to even be on a different tangent. Somehow, Hermione, his best friend now that Ron was actually family, was someone he would not mind fussing over him the way Pansy fussed over Draco – well, certainly not to _that_ level; what the Slytherins did was simply nauseating. Then again, he also thought the same about Cho Chang, the pretty Ravenclaw. On a balance of circumstance though, he _knew_ Hermione, so the risks and rewards were commensurately higher.

It was an odd first week for Harry Potter. So just to ensure that it wouldn't be too odd in the long run, he decided to end Draco's torment before it got too far. It still was nearly two months later, though, that _that_ incident came about.

* * *

The time till Halloween was not easy. Dementors prowling around the school made everyone uneasy. Hagrid was the worst hit. He lived out in the grounds, and with his experience at Azkaban and the ongoing Buckbeak saga, it was a terrible time for the gentle, gigantic gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor.

Even other people were badly affected. Students reported nightmares, sleeplessness, reduced concentration, sluggishness and the works. Madam Pomfrey was perpetually busy. Even the dungeon bat looked worn and worry-ridden.

Thankfully Lupin was an excellent teacher. Having initially been brought in to help shore up the castle's defences against Sirius Black, the rejuvenated Marauder was taking it upon himself to thrust up the morale around the castle with allusions – in both word and deed – to his own schooldays. This did not mean random colour changing charms and stuff. He got creative with the detentions, caught out Fred and George pre-emptively sometimes ('sometimes' being the operative word) and generally endeavoured to make his lessons as fun as possible.

In an exceptional aberration, therefore, nothing happened on Halloween. The eventless nature of the day in itself ended up becoming a massive self-inflicted prank on the bunch of friends, as they spent it in jittery anticipation.

"This is was a damp squib," Fred remarked.

"Right you are, my uglier brother," George agreed.

"Yes, you are the prettier one," Fred ribbed him. "This lot always got involved in something on Halloween."

"They have spoilt us."

"Are you two done tempting fate?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you irritated enough to cause trouble?" Fred asked, just as Neville and Ron piped up with, "I thought you thought that Divination was stupid!"

"Yes; I think divination is stupid. No; I am not bothered enough to cause trouble. I would rather like an eventless year, thank you very much. The Dementors are trouble enough."

"Somehow, I don't think your wish will be fulfilled."

George didn't know how really prophetic his words were. Harry was grinning as he overheard them. He had learnt from Malfoy. The Slytherin had been accorded grudging respect while the Gryffindor learnt. Now he was to be taken down a few pegs.

* * *

"It is nice to see that you are changing, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said the day after Halloween. He had gone so far as to approach the Slytherin table at breakfast, and had also persuaded Percy to cast a lighter version of the voice amplification charm on him, so that everyone would here. Of course, Harry Potter approaching the Slytherin table at breakfast voluntarily to talk civilly with Draco Malfoy meant the end of the world, so everyone just had to watch. "I must say, I didn't expect you to change your ways."

Daphne Greengrass, one of those who was on the fence and had been working out whether to join Draco's clique or not, sneered at Harry (he wondered whether Snape required his House to practice the expression in the mirror after he taught it to them as first years) as she snapped, "What are you blathering about, Potter?"

"Well, I am sure that everyone knows about the rather public disagreements I have had with Mr. Malfoy last year over his continued usage of bigoted and racist slurs against those of non-magical descent," he reminded everyone politely. Merlin, but politically correct language was a massive pain in the posterior and it was so flowery that it made him want to swear no matter who spoke it.

"And?" asked the girl with an arched eyebrow. Draco was looking at Harry open-mouthed, unable to speak a coherent word.

"I am very happy to see Mr. Malfoy showing us all, that he has changed his ways, by his continued use of non-magical treatment for the injury he might have sustained during the altercation with a sentient being that is known to be very proud, when he caused it to be angered by some misguided and misplaced words."

Glancing over to the table as a whole, he praised them as well. "I am also very happy to see most of the Slytherin House supporting him in his endeavour." Many people blanched, grimaced and threw him dirty looks. They were accused of supporting something so muggle?

Unaffected, the raven-haired Gryffindor further explained, "He has laboured with the casts for two months, after all, and they do get quite itchy. We must commend his steadfastness."

Daphne's eye twitched – as did that of so many of her Housemates. **_Snape_** , of all people, seemed to be fighting the urge to control the smile that seemed to be on the verge of breaking out, as were Dumbledore, Moony and most of the other teachers. That was interesting. Draco meanwhile, had certainly passed into shock.

Turning back to Draco, Harry said politely, "I would have extended my hand, Mr. Malfoy, now that you seem to be seeing the fallacy of the supremacy extremism that you seemed to be espousing, but I suppose it may aggravate your injury. Do get well soon, Mr. Malfoy. Have a good day!" He started to walk away and then turned around, his expression an epitome of contriteness. "I must also apologise Mr. Malfoy. I withheld my approval for so long because I wrongly believed that you were overplaying the injury. I shall endeavour to not misjudge you henceforth."

He quietly returned to the Gryffindor table which was just as quiet as the rest of the Hall. As one, once he had finished, Hermione, Ron and Neville as well as most of their Gryffindor classmates left the Hall. Throughout this entire drama, and even when they left Malfoy had yet to speak.

Everyone among the group was doing their utmost to not laugh. Once fairly clear, they hid away in an unused classroom and let go of their compunctions.

"That," gasped Seamus, "was effing brilliant!"

Harry preened a bit.

"I will never doubt you again when you say you can deal with Malfoy, Harry," Ron sputtered, somewhat coherently, once he had wiped off tears of mirth.

"I am happy to see you are changing your ways," mimicked Neville. "You have just officially made my year."

"Well, what can I say? He did irritate me a lot last year when he kept calling Hermione a You-know-what. And the way the Slytherins were behaving was driving me up the wall. Today was a rather perfect opportunity."

"It was," Hermione agreed grinning at him with wild approval. "Next time you want to pull something like that off, Harry, just tip us off."

"True," agreed Ron. "I had to stop myself snorting pumpkin juice. I suppose that would have ruined the effect."

"I will endeavour to do so, cousin Ron, fair Hermione. Spontaneity, though, cannot be predicted."

"If that was spontaneous," concluded Lavender, "I shudder to think what you will come prepared with."

Through the rest of the day, the high praise Malfoy received was heard about the school in snippets and snickers. The cast and the case against Buckbeak were both gone the next day. One very important objective was accomplished. The Gryffindors had become a close-knit group, and Draco had become the laughing stock, as a bonus.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Milking Way – II**

A/N: This was the already written part of the chapter posted yesterday on our side. Match and POA chapter 'Grim Defeat' thoroughly changed. This and the next chapter are slightly harsh as compared to the previous ones.

* * *

In spite of the absolutely polite humiliation, Draco had already been successful in getting the Gryffindor-Slytherin match pushed forward, with badgers playing against the lions instead of the snakes. It had been irritating to have to change their plans and strategies abruptly, but at the very least they still had a two week period in which to come up with something. Hufflepuff had had to advance their schedule. They weren't scheduled to play till two weeks later against the eagles. Neither team therefore had much of an advantage, all things considered.

The weather was getting increasingly horrible. The Match Day was terrible. The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor players shared weary sighs and shrugs. Opponents they were on the field but it wasn't football (that simply had to be played in torrential rain) but Quidditch that was to be played. With such poor visibility and conditions, one would have hoped that the match would be rescheduled, but such was not their fortune.

It was horrible. The rain pounded the players so badly that the reality of the match had become a bunch of players attempting to fend of bludgers and score, if they were so lucky. A timeout mid-match had Hermione improving Harry's visibility, much to Oliver Wood's glee, but that apart, it was still terrible.

Cedric Diggory looked like he sincerely wished he had glasses. With Hermione's charm, it seemed only Harry could see anything at all. Well, he _was_ a good seeker after all, so he improvised. Harry could search for the snitch. But Harry was also a few thousand times larger than the little golden ball, so Cedric, in a departure from the honourable traditions of a true seeker, took off after his younger opponent.

Unfortunately, the atmosphere in the stands – and it was an atmosphere that made the players extremely jealous, for the stands were covered with rain- and wind-blocking spells and warming charms – was so upbeat that a few unexpected (and unwanted) guests couldn't help but come crash the party. They too wanted some entertainment after all.

Every single one of the one hundred and four Dementors posted at the school had abandoned their positions as the school was engaged in its largest outdoor congregation since the start of the school year. To add to it was the plethora of emotions that ran high. For the primal dark creatures, it was a feast they couldn't miss. It was prey that had walked into their midst and had proceeded to sit down unattended.

Up in the air, the players – barring the seekers, who were now engaged in a race to finish the match – felt the terrible cold and despair that swept over them all. The dark, rotting, torn-cloaked figures were inundating the skies. As one, the two teams decided to abandon the match. These were overwhelming odds. In fact, it was true even against a single Dementor – nobody knew how to drive a Dementor away.

Adrenaline is a funny thing. In the heat of the battle, in the rush of the game, there is very little that seems important as compared to the objective, to the target. A seeker, the player playing alone in a team game, was always the one most likely to be swept under by that rush. Harry and Cedric were in precisely that dimension, mentally. By the time the biting cold, colder than the pounding of the rain and sleet, as the raindrops turned to small icy shards in the vicinity of the Dementors, was finally felt, the Dementors were upon the twain.

Cedric was the first to realise the danger they were in just as he was about to close in and get level with Harry in their pursuit of the snitch. Unlike the younger boy, this was not his first time around a Dementor, which wasn't surprising, considering that his father was the one tasked with making the rules that controlled them as he was the departmental specialist on Dementors. Amos Diggory had warned him about the creatures after a two hour long rant about the idiocy of Fudge and his toady, Umbridge. Amos had gone so far as to call the woman Dementor-born, alluding to her unnatural affinity with the beasts. They were barely fifteen bloody metres from those fiendish things and the stupid Gryffindor – well, much later Cedric did doubt that judgement based on the recent incident – was barrelling right towards them!

"POTTER!" he yelled. "Bloody hell!" he swore, when Harry didn't look back as he stretched out his hand. "MERLIN DAMN IT HARRY! GET BACK FROM THOSE DEMENTORS!"

Unfortunately, by this time, Harry had actually frozen. He was just as aware of the danger he was in as Cedric yelled, but he was paralysed by the shout of the woman begging for his life. He knew now. He knew who the woman was. It was his mum. Voldemort was about to kill her. _Just a little bit further_ , he mentally chanted, _just a little bit further and I'll reach her. I'll help her._

Those were his last thoughts as he went a bit too close, no longer in control of his broom. A feel of cold metal pressed against his hand and he automatically grasped it as he fainted, yet again. He lost hold of his Nimbus 2000 completely as he plunged what seemed like a hundred feet.

Down in the stands, the school gasped as one as Cedric dived in after Harry, and grabbed the younger seeker by the collar and barrelled straight to the ground. They both dropped into the mud, the older boy with much more dignity, even though he struggled to control the broom with one hand as he lugged Harry with the other. The two teams were already landing around them and the Gryffindors gathered around, thanking Cedric profusely.

Cedric, on that day, had lost the match, but he had won many fans as a sportsman.

* * *

"LEAVE MY MUM ALONE!"

To the people gathered around what had been christened 'Harry's Bed', this was the most startling and odd sentence that heralded Harry's return to wakefulness from the yearly attempts- during-Quidditch-match-to-kill-Harry ritual.

Harry himself had sat up in simmering rage as his last coherent thoughts asserted themselves as he regained consciousness.

Hermione, eyes bloodshot, and sopping wet, was the first to reach him from around the Quidditch team. "Harry?" she called, as she laid a hand on his shaking shoulders. "What-what are you talking about?" She received no answer from her best friend, who had gone extremely taut and tense. She kept rubbing circles on his back as her mother did when she had had a nightmare.

Someone passed Harry his glasses as he calmed down and took in his surroundings. The involuntary grimace at seeing his surroundings told everyone that a modicum of normalcy had returned. Looking at his friends and teammates in turn, he asked slowly, "What happened?"

"You fell off," said Fred. "Must've been – what – fifty feet?"

"More like a hundred," his brother answered grimly.

"We thought you'd died," said Alicia, who was shaking. Hermione made a small, squeaky noise at that proclamation.

"And?" he asked.

"Well, if you are going to ask about Quidditch, we won. The snitch was frozen to your hand. You had a cold metal burn, so Madam Pomfrey had to cut it off to re-grow the skin around it," Wood answered solemnly. He was proud of his seeker for holding on, but he was honest enough to accept that it was an accidental win.

There was something still wrong about the whole matter. He looked to Hermione silently asking her what the matter was with just an interrogative look in his eyes.

"Diggory caught you," she replied with a slight hiccough. Sometimes she hated Quidditch as much as Voldemort.

"Oh."

On one hand, he was thoroughly grateful to Diggory. The bloke had shown great sportsmanship with what he did, and he had saved his life. But that meant a wrinkle. He was now indebted to Diggory. He wasn't sure whether the debts were magical in some way and there was something specific to be done to repay them, considering that he was not quite experienced with the being in debt part. There was also the dearth of any real literature about such matters. He needed someone trustworthy to ask about the matter discreetly.

"I must thank him. A hospital bed is infinitely more comfortable than becoming a Harry-pancake."

Someone snorted and Hermione swatted him with an irritated huff as the tension in the room broke in response to the slight attempt at black humour.

Dumbledore had rushed onto the pitch, apparently, just as Harry was falling and had driven the creatures away with some 'silvery stuff', as Hermione recounted it. The Headmaster, she told him, was also supremely incensed by the presence of the Dementors. That wasn't new. Dumbledore had expressed his disapproval about the posting through his tone during the welcoming speech. It was also obvious that he had been found wanting against the combined might of the Ministry, for he had probably gone in with the 'Hogwarts-is-my-dominion' thing he sometimes pulled.

To Harry's utter disappointment, he had lost his faithful broomstick, the Nimbus 2000, to the insane Whomping Willow. It was something that he had got because of his own skills, so he prized it the most of almost all his belongings, on par with Hagrid's gift of the photo album and his invisibility cloak.

A little while after the team had been driven away by the Dragon Lady, Professor Lupin came in to check up on him just as Hermione breached the subject she was swapping thoughts with herself over.

"Harry, what were you saying about your mum?"

Harry slumped slightly. "Remember I asked you who screamed on the train? Turns out I still remember _that_ Halloween night. First I hear my mum crying because dad is already dead. Then she pleads with Voldemort to spare me. The scream is as she steps between me and the curse. That is what I hear when the Dementors come close."

His friends looked at him in sympathy. Remus shared a look of empathy with his almost nephew. They were his family as well.

"Dumbledore is very angry," he reported. "He has been unable to convince the Minister that they are a danger hitherto, and even now, Fudge is adamant."

"Why is the Headmaster appealing to him? There is a much better way!" Harry challenged.

"Oh?"

"Well, I really hate the Boy-Who-Lived thing, but in this case, I think it is necessary to flex those muscles. I wonder what The Daily Prophet will report when it finds out that the Dementors, placed near Hogwarts to protect the school from the Potters' betrayer, almost kissed the last Potter before Black got to him, doing the job for the felon instead."

Remus pondered over it. Ron had a grin as he realised that this was a way to put the Ministry in a soup. Hermione pursed her lips in faint disapproval as did Neville. As Harry said, being the Boy-Who-Lived was not something to bandy about, but the Ministry needed to have a fire lit under it. That idea had merit.

"How do you intend to give Dumbledore an alibi? He will be Fudge's first suspect."

Harry hadn't thought of that. "I just wish there was some way to show them what happened so that they could have those moving photographs," he groused morosely.

Remus perked up at that. "There is a way, Harry! We can have someone show them their memories of the incident sent anonymously!"

"You can show remove real memories?" Hermione asked as she beat her friends to the punch.

Remus could almost picture her cackling evilly as she rubbed her hands and muttered, "Knowledge! Give me knowledge!" He smiled and nodded. "There are ways."

"Well, it has to be a student whose memories have to be taken. Plus, I don't know, maybe Malfoy could be coaxed to give a snide quote about scarhead falling off his broom and it being a pity that Diggory caught him."

"I know whom you should contact!" exclaimed Ron. "Mum always complains about that hag, Skeeter!"

"Right you are," Neville agreed. "She always likes to sensationalise news. This might just work."

"Don't tell the Headmaster, Professor," Harry suggested. "Let's give him plausible deniability."

Remus nodded with a wry expression. Not only did he intend to give Dumbledore plausible deniability, but also to every other professor. Marauders never lost their skills.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Granger, please return to the Gryffindor Tower. It is nearing curfew."

The three nodded. Hermione deposited the remains of the broom in a bag on Harry's bedside table sadly before they left.

"Thanks. I needed to talk to you."

"The debt to Diggory," Remus surmised correctly. "I don't know much myself, but I have written to Sirius. I expect he will reply soon enough. On that note, I think I will pass your thanks to Mr. Diggory?"

"Of course, Professor," Harry replied gratefully.

"Please Harry. I told you that you should call me Moony in private."

"It's a bit difficult to break the habit sir."

Remus chuckled as he left.

* * *

Sure enough Sirius answered immediately. There was a bit of ranting in general about the Dementors, and with him having them as constant companions for over twelve years, Sirius could be forgiven for being scared.

The more pertinent matter of the debt incurred by Harry was not as much of an issue as he was worried it would be. Sirius told them that since most of these things were split second incidences and more often than not matters of chance, there was no indentured debt. If they were, he pointed out, it could be abused. For example, if a Malfoy or a Lestrange was owed the debt, if the debt was magically binding, they could, in theory, have Harry submit to Voldemort.

A debt was more a question of honour and of the one indebted helping the one he owed the debt to as soon as he could, and to remember the debt before attempting anything or supporting anything that would hurt the one owed. All the same, it was considered polite to acknowledge such a debt publicly, which Harry duly did on the Monday after the match, just after breakfast.

Cedric promptly accepted it – to not do so would mean he was implying that Harry was not that important, a social faux pas – before telling him something voluntarily. Well, such volunteering was something only a Hufflepuff would have done. A Gryffindor's pride would never let him speak about a problem. A Slytherin would ensure that the thing he or she wanted done was not actually one thing, but at least a series of things, one leading to the other, with the debtor having no choice but to comply out of honour. A Ravenclaw would ponder and balance one instance where they would require against the other before speaking out.

"Dad had told me this would happen – not that you would fall; that the Dementors would eventually attack the school. He has been opposing the move right from the outset, but Minister Fudge has this toady, Umbridge. She was the one pushing for this posting of Dementors instead of Aurors."

Umbridge; there was that name. Harry was sure he had read it before in some unsavoury circumstance. Not a Death Eater, but he was sure she was no better. He would have to refer his notes. Deciding to release a little bit of information, after only asking – not making Cedric promise it; just asking – for secrecy, Harry said, "I will see what I can do."

"Of course," Cedric replied patronisingly. Excellent; selective underestimation was a good thing. Now was the time for a little indignation.

"Well, I can say with enough surety that the Minister will listen. After all, I know _that_ someone who pointed him in the direction of the Crouches."

Cedric's eyes widened; he did understand what was being implied. He then smiled. "Well, Umbridge is worse than a Death Eater."

Harry nodded. "Just be prepared for some drama, Cedric. Gryffindors can be good at it, surprisingly."

"Better than Slytherins are, Harry?"

"I cannot comment on that."

Cedric snorted. "You can really be a conniving jerk."

Harry simply laughed and took his leave. Dolores Umbridge was the wonderful, wonderful target, the chink in the armour and his opportunity to get more than just a foot inside the door.

That day onwards, Harry was constantly being looked out for by not only his year-mates but also several of the older Gryffindors and quite a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. It was fuelled not only by the accident, but also the whispers that it was he who had found out about the Crouches. He had been right. Cedric Diggory might not have been a gossipmonger but he would have never been able to not let slip something of that sort when it affected the hierarchy within the Ministry – the pecking order as it were – and where his father stood in the order. The downside was anyone who supported the Crouches or the Death Eaters would target him; not much considering that it was what happened anyway.

* * *

Tuesday saw the news about the Quidditch game almost-tragedy leaked to the press. There wasn't much emphasis on Harry's accident, but Skeeter had waxed eloquent about the failure that was the governmental policy for security support to Hogwarts. Remus revealed only several months later, that it was Lee Jordan who had provided the memories. As the commentator, he was most attuned to the positions of all fourteen players.

The real surprise was the identity of the source for Rita Skeeter. Sirius was chomping at the bit to get to do something – anything. So between them, the two Marauders had disguised his voice as that of a female, and the Grim Animagus had met the Beetle under a hooded cloak. If she accused any of the Professors when it came up, everyone could honestly say that it wasn't them.

 _Plausible deniability_ , thought Remus as he smirked. _Teaching your betters the business, are you?_

The Ministry was inundated with Howlers but the Minister remained adamant. Rita had then gone snooping of her own volition – and this time nobody knew about it, truly – and had unearthed the accident as well. It wasn't Malfoy, but a well-fed Goyle who performed the services of maligning Potter and his exaggerated Quidditch prowess. Everything went swimmingly as per plan on that front.

Rita became a person of interest for Harry. If she could swoop undetected, it could potentially be a risk. It was necessary to have something to hold over her. He was in no position to buy her out.

* * *

Dolores Umbridge was a nasty piece of work. Within the week after the game itself, that fact was self-evident, so far as Harry could see. And she was also either clever or ruthless or both, in which case she was both a priority target to eliminate from within the Minister's inner circle, as well as a very dangerous person.

The woman had carefully covered her tracks wherever she went and whatever she did, but somehow, somehow just after she reached a higher position, anyone who opposed her was destroyed. And that wasn't restricted to political destruction, it seemed. She had accomplished everything including character assassination, actual assassination and a plethora of seemingly insignificant laws and riders to bills that would target a person or a group of people quite effectively.

It was no wonder, therefore, that the woman would climb the political ladder as quickly as she did. Starting at the lowly (for a halfblood with very great pureblood backing from the Selwyn family) position of a senior clerk in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, she had climbed up to the post of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister within a decade and half.

The most he could find was actually in the Know Your Ministry booklet that Fudge had started as a PR initiative. The man was good for something at least. In it he found something that it seemed she had jealously protected – the chronology of her ascent. If she was anything like the image he was building in his mind, then she must have given the Minister a dogged fight to not include it, and had to have wrenched something from him in return when he wouldn't budge.

From there on, it was quite a bit easier to find out what she had done – if at all; he couldn't just go about accusing people close to the Minister of anything just out of the blue – and it seemed obvious that she was a woman who would hold a grudge and who would pursue her vendetta. Whatever happened though was always part of a case that ended in a dead end. So she either had more political will backing her than seemed visible, or she was more cunning than she appeared. The alternative was that she was cruel, ruthless and excellent at seeming to keep her hands clean.

Still it was not enough to have any sort of a showdown with her. There really wasn't enough data. There would come a point where they would butt heads, and Harry knew he would likely have to beat a strategic retreat. It was not until late on the eighteenth that he realised that he could have a source if he wanted to use it. And this source, he **_knew_** , would be overlooked by everyone.

These games of the powers behind the thrones were dangerous. And they were enjoyable.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Milking Way – III**

Thanks to PaC (guest), Kairan1979, alix33, angelofheaven001, jadely31, Arnold DeVillena, Lunaterre224, davycrockett100, for their reviews. Thanks to all who favourited or followed the story.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was in a quandary. He bloody well was in a quandary. Something had changed since that horrible year past when things had started happening at Hogwarts; things that his father had told him had happened during the older man's time at Hogwarts.

Lucius was not a good man, far from that; he was a terrible, heinous excuse of a human being who had committed some very horrible crimes in support of the Dark Lord and the pureblood and magical supremacy that He espoused. He felt no remorse or regret over his actions, no sir, none at all. He was also a man who held loyalty to himself above even the one to whom he had magically pledged his loyalty. If it ever happened that the two intertwined, so much the better.

So when Arthur Weasley, an exceptionally irritating pain in his rear, started to hound him and attempted raids – or so he had heard through the Ministry network – he had decided to take the man down. Lucius truly hated muggleborns. He hated muggles even more. But none were as receiving of his hatred as Arthur Weasley, the ultimate blood-traitor and lover of muggles. He had heard of the rumours emanating from Hogwarts that Potter had had a showdown with the Dark Lord.

It worried him. He and many others like him had known that the Dark Lord was not gone, merely dormant. They had attempted to don the veneer of respectable people and become entrenched in the politics enough to control it as the personal fiefdom of the purebloods. It was not subtle. People talked and often they were silenced with whatever means necessary. That, unfortunately couldn't be done with a very old pureblood family like the Weasleys, blood-traitor or not.

So Lucius had taken the diary entrusted to him by his Lord and had slipped it to the seventh child of the Weasleys. It seemed fitting, what with the child, a female and therefore unique (even in that obscenely humongous family) as his Lord liked to be, and her association with the number seven, something the Dark Lord had a special kind of love for, just as much as he had for snakes, killing and torture. The move, in his mind, was clever. It would discredit Weasley eventually when the Dark Lord would gain more and more control over the girl and cause her to cause mayhem, would eliminate the mudbloods, and bring back the Dark Lord.

He had been wrong. He had been thoroughly, utterly wrong.

Not only did the plan fail, making him lose an important artefact that he was sure he would one day be punished for, but worse still, his son, Draco, his Heir, the one person he would not sacrifice to anyone's whims and fancies including his own, and for whom he would sacrifice anything, was in just as much danger. The Dark Lord's weapon was sheer evil; a basilisk. Draco had been in the castle with a basilisk, a beast that would kill without a doubt, and against whom friend or foe had equal chance.

His response had been as knee-jerk and foolish as he would have expected of a Gryffindor. He had fallen into the ignominious trap of believing Dumbledore to be the solution to all that ailed. So when the man did not appear to solve the mystery he himself had solved and therefore hadn't acted, hadn't closed down the school to enable the hunting of the basilisk, he had moved to get him removed.

In the end, he knew Potter had saved the day again. He had, even if he would probably have never wished to do so, somehow brought Draco out of the mess alive. He had thanked Potter mentally that day, never mind the fact that he had correctly found out that it was Lucius who had given the Weasley girl the blasted Diary and that he had lost his elf.

That night he had made a resolution as he guzzled his way through two bottles of firewhiskey. Whatever happened, he was not going to either do, or let anyone else do anything that would probably harm Draco. The others could die for all he cared, just not Draco.

Yet, when Black had escaped from Azkaban, Lucius, who had designs on the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and with a primal need to get back at the other governors for removing him from that position of power, had fallen in with the stupid toad woman who had been insistent that Dementors be placed around Hogwarts. He, with his own cruel streak a mile wild, had quickly agreed with her. She had no children – and Lucius was thankful for the absent children on their behalf – and therefore had no idea of the pain and fear even the possibility of the loss of a child could cause. He did not know that either, but he could imagine. The Quidditch incident had driven home the possibility that Draco could have been kissed. The Dementors, instead of going after the players, could have gone after the spectators in the Slytherin stands, after Draco.

He did not want to be drawn into the discussion that was threatening to overwhelm the Ministry after Skeeter had found out more about the ill-fated game. The public was up in arms when the boy-who-lived was threatened. Fudge had underestimated the boy's continued influence. If he was asked however, Lucius knew he would support the withdrawal.

* * *

With the hubbub around the aftermath of the game report, Fudge still tarried for ten days, seven of them serving as excellent an excellent extension. If Harry had found circumstantial evidence before, in this extension Harry found so much more hard evidence – of course not enough to destroy, unless she did something, but enough to incite doubt and panic and institute an inquiry – against Dolores Umbridge.

It was a tense ten days, all said and done. Her destruction had to be thorough enough to warrant her elimination by others, or for a permanent posting as an inspector for the most high-security cells, residing within the walls of those cells. If not, he knew enough to realise that she would consider herself to be some sort of avenging angel, out to get back at those who had harmed one Ms. D. Umbridge.

So the people around him had taken to treating him as if he was made of glass – of course they were in on the plan. It was their _duty_ to the school, and that word alone had brought the Gryffindors in line. Motivations for different people had to be specific to their personalities, and all that guff.

Lavender had done a wonderful job with the rumours. Wood insisted that there always be at least one teacher supervising the practice sessions in case a Dementor decided to join them. Percy, as Head Boy was always ready with chocolates for anyone and everyone who needed them. That Harry had helped the Minister, and was likely to meet him meant that Percy was going out of his way to showcase his credentials and initiative. Hermione was pulling a Pansy (Harry was secretly pleased), just not to the Slytherin's overly nauseating levels. Harry was ready with his arguments and manipulations.

This was one round he simply had to win. He had not counted on getting to apply the personal motto about milking the situation spontaneously when the meeting finally did come around.

* * *

Fudge arrived just after breakfast on Saturday, the 27th, two weeks after the match. He had two people in tow, and nobody had seen two people more at loggerheads with each other over a matter they were _supposed to be_ on the same page about. From their vantage point, it was rather obvious that Fudge was looking warily at Umbridge, who was seething sulphurously, while Amos Diggory had a neutral face which was still edging towards a resigned 'I-told-you-so' face. Harry shot Cedric a quick grin.

This could very well be slightly easy if Umbridge was already riled up.

* * *

"Albus I understand!" Cornelius replied in a frustrated manner. "But this is the best security we have!"

"For your belief and security of mind, probably," Dumbledore replied with sarcasm interspersed with authority. "In reality it is not!"

Unseen to the Headmaster's visitors, Armando Dippet's portrait whispered that someone (Harry) was outside the door, and Dumbledore opened it, just as Umbridge retorted in her sickeningly sweet voice, "Are you trying to imply..."

"I am not implying anything, Madam Umbridge. I am saying it outright. The Dementors are more dangerous to the school than Black could ever hope to be." That was the truth, considering that the Headmaster knew the facts. "Mr. Potter has come, Minister. May I allow him into the room?"

"Yes, yes," the frazzled Fudge replied hurriedly.

Harry knocked before nudging the open door wider and asked, "May I come in, Headmaster, esteemed visitors from the Ministry?"

"Yes of course Harry," the Minister called him in presumptuously, greeting the boy with a tight smile.

Luckily, Dumbledore had chosen the same moment to do so, and had also seen the frown on Harry's face at Fudge's presumption mirroring his own. He had to stifle a sigh. He could see more and more of himself in the boy these days and often hoped it would not be so. He had made too many mistakes, and didn't wish the remorse that came with them on anyone, least of all the young boy. It was the sort of negative thinking that often led to Dumbledore making more mistakes in Harry's case by taking the wrong decisions. He quite often forgot that he himself had so very often used his power and influence for good, just as Harry was learning to do.

"Please have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore offered, conjuring a large squishy armchair in Gryffindor colours (a massive deviation from his usual lurid purple) for the boy.

"Thank you sir," Harry accepted with a nod. Before he sat though, he decided he would go on the charm offensive. Approaching Diggory and Umbridge, he introduced himself, "Good morning, sir, and ma'am. I am Harry Potter. I am afraid I haven't had the pleasure to meet you before." He held out a hand for Diggory to shake, which the man did, muttering, "Amos Diggory." Harry also placed a kiss on Umbridge's right knuckle. It was a miracle how his gag reflex did not kick in. Dumbledore looked at his student in amused approval, as did Cornelius Fudge. Amos Diggory marvelled at how he managed to do so.

"I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge," she replied sweetly – a bit too sweetly.

If Umbridge had decided to target Harry by any means, this was going to be a most effective way to blunt her first attack, and thereby throwing her off her track. He would be too polite. That was how you behaved with your enemies.

"Harry," the Minister started, "would you please tell me what happened during the game?"

Harry recounted it briefly, perfectly. He also took the time to thank Mr. Diggory again.

"I am sorry," the Minister muttered at long last. It galled him to apologise to anyone. "We are doing everything we can to catch Black, Harry. At the moment, this is the best security we can provide the castle with."

There was a moment of silence. Dumbledore seemed irritated and Diggory resigned. Dolores seemed victorious. And Harry almost opened his mouth as he stared at the man. Was this the same person who had arrested Hagrid simply because he "had to be seen doing something?"

"I am afraid Minister, that not only are you wrong, but you are also committing suicide as far as your position goes."

That was a classic thirteen-year-old boy's bluntness. Dumbledore controlled the urge to palm his face. Amos stared at the boy as if he had grown a second head. Cornelius winced and steeled himself. The last time he had heard such bluntness, he had been handed a way to eliminate a political rival decisively.

"What are you speaking stupid boy?" Dolores half shrieked.

 _Interesting_ , decided Harry. She had one of the easiest weaknesses, a racing tongue and ready anger. He raised an eyebrow at her in challenge.

"Dolores please!" the Minister chastised. "Say it Harry."

"You have made three horrible decisions out of miscalculations. Each of them can be easily corrected."

That was what Cornelius wanted to hear. "I am all ears."

"If Black wanted to actually come after any student, for that matter, he would have already been at Hogwarts by now."

"WHAT?"

"Isn't that obvious? The man has been locked away for twelve years. People move, go under new protective wards...there are so many ways that his knowledge about things could go obsolete. Hogwarts is the only place he **_could have_** gotten to without ever being detected as he can live in the forest. Instead of anywhere else in the country, this was the one place he **_could have_** come to, lived virtually undetected, and observed his target or targets. A man, who you yourself said has gone insane, **_would not have_** any patience to speak of."

"Don't talk as if you know anything you uppity twat!" It was becoming more and more obvious with each passing moment whose baby the placing of the Dementors was, really. The woman was staring daggers at Harry who smiled at her mildly.

"Dolores stay quiet!" hissed the Minister. "Do not insult Mr. Potter! He has helped us before, and his input may well be the thing we ignore to our detriment!"

"I agree with what Harry says, Minister Fudge," Dumbledore put in his own two Knuts. "While Hogwarts' security is as high as we can make it without the Dementors, there is really nothing we can do about the Forest."

"So doesn't that justify the Dementor presence?" Cornelius argued.

"It doesn't, as a matter of fact," replied Harry. "For that is where you have miscalculated."

Cornelius was getting impatient. "How have we miscalculated?"

Harry smiled patronisingly at the older man. "Correct me if I am wrong, sir, but before Black's escape, wasn't Azkaban the sole inhabitation of the Dementors?"

"Yes..." Cornelius' eyes glazed over. Something was clicking in his brain.

"So by bringing over half of Azkaban's Dementor population to Hogwarts, hasn't Azkaban's security reduced drastically?"

"Oh Merlin!" mumbled Cornelius, as inaudibly as he could.

Harry almost smiled as he realised he had Cornelius' wicket. "By this step, Black has cleverly drawn away a massive portion of the Dementor presence at the prison after himself – **_after one man_** , Minister! Now the more horrible prisoners such as Antonin Dolohov, the Lestranges, Rookwood and others have only half of the Dementors to deal with. Can't they stage a breakout now? This was a conspiracy. The Dark Lord might not be _active_ any longer, Minister; but his Death Eaters are a danger!"

Albus Dumbledore was not a man easily surprised. Right now, he was having difficulties trying to control his jaw from slacking away. Just what was going on? Where, oh wherefrom did this avatar of Harry Potter come from? He marvelled at the way Harry had chosen certain words. 'The Dark Lord wasn't _active_...' When, and not if, Voldemort returned to a body, Harry could honestly say that he had never claimed that Voldemort was dead. But to push a whole conspiracy onto the man who was actually the closest family he had, with some aim in mind – and Albus was sure that it wasn't just taking the Dementors away from Azkaban, anymore – was an altogether different level of manipulation.

Cornelius was clearly playing the situation in his mind. The thing was, that, by pushing the blame of pulling the strings of a massive conspiracy on Sirius, Harry had played with Fudge's most horrible fears as a Minister. Cornelius was not a bad person as such. He was greedy, he was corrupt. But beyond that, he was not _bad_. He was incompetent. He wasn't prepared to deal with that. It was therefore time to deal the killer blow.

"I almost feared that the person who misled you so with the placement was a leak in your proximity, and might be in league with Black."

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" shrieked Umbridge, even as Amos (who was looking at Harry with a smidgen of respect, Dumbledore and Cornelius (who had just had a second experience with Harry's 'logic' and was coming around to it) reared back in shock.

She was now incandescent with rage. This was her idea, her idea to put the Dementors near those brats. She even had Malfoy's agreement, and she knew it had more to do with eliminating Black, but the man had turned after the incident because they strayed too close to his son. What did the brat know? She was DOLORES JANE UMBRIDGE, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, and he accused _her_ of helping Black? She knew the traitor to both sides. He had killed many purebloods, and he had led the Dark Lord to his demise. Why would she help Black, the man who had caused the death of the Dark Lord, who had promised the elimination of the mudbloods, those magic thieves?

All her anger at the boy, and at Black, came cascading out and was exacerbated by her weakness. It was fuelled by her bigotry and the blood rushing to her brain out of anger. Truly, she did have Gryffindor-ish tendencies.

"You little son of a mudblood whore!" spat she. "You disgusting little half-breed, you question my decision?"

Harry wanted to be angry, really. He would never allow for this slur on his mother. But this was actually a gift. He had never in a million years expected her to capitulate so easily. Never had he expected that the answer to her machinations was simply goading her into a confrontation. It was then that he realised that it wasn't the Crouches that represented his beginner's luck, it was Umbridge's downfall. It was also ironic how Umbridge, herself a half-blood, was into blood bigotry.

"DOLORES!" shouted Fudge in shock. It was lucky he had witnessed this in a way, he thought. He wouldn't have ever believed it otherwise. The foolish woman had royally eroded so much of the Ministry's credibility and purchase with the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Madam Umbridge, I have been polite to you all this while, but I will not allow such blatant bigotry in my school!" Dumbledore thundered.

 _That's rich_ , Harry thought, _he allows Draco to do it_. However, that was for later, now he had a wonderful new opportunity. He rounded on the Minister so fiercely that the corpulent man flinched.

"So this is how the Ministry remembers Lily Evans-Potter, Minister?" he sneered. "I should have expected it. It seems consistent with everything else I have experienced in the magical world."

Fudge blanched. "No, Mr. Potter! I promise you that isn't the case!"

"It seems a false promise, **_Mister_** Fudge, especially, considering the fact that you seem to take no account of a person's credentials and beliefs before appointing them to such important positions in the Ministry. Funny what sort of explanations you would have to give the people of Magical Britain wouldn't you, when you consider that of the roughly forty thousand magicals in the British Isles, twenty four thousand are of at least partial non-magical descent? It is such a pity..."

"Don't think you can get away with blackmailing the Minister, boy!" Dolores snarled. It was obvious that she wore the pants in _that_ particular relationship. She was also operating on the assumption that Fudge wouldn't distance himself from her. He was a political animal. Of course he would not let her drag him down. "Boy-Who-Lived or not, _accidents_ can happen."

 ** _"_** ** _Yes!_** " exulted Harry mentally. **_"Ian Rush pulled down by the defender with a clear shot on goal inside the eighteen yard box at Old Trafford! Penalty awarded to Liverpool!"_** This was ridiculously easy. And it wasn't a good thing, because other opponents would now be wary. He was going to have to step up his game. He had gone into this 'meeting' with the expectation of creating doubt in Fudge's mind about Umbridge. Once the man started distancing himself from her, he intended to release the small snippets of proof that he had. His new source had been a godsend, finding more than circumstantial evidence in one case of crippling and criminal intimidation, of all things.

"Did you know, Madam Um-bitch...uh...Umbridge," he corrected himself quickly, showing about as much remorse as one would feel after swatting a mosquito, eliciting a snarl from the woman, "I am within my rights, to complain directly to the Chief Warlock, and to the Minister, that you have threatened me. And they themselves are witnesses, as is Mr. Diggory. It is a crime, you know, when the threat is levelled by an adult..."

Cornelius was still reeling from the body blow that Black's escape was probably part of a larger conspiracy, when this new criminal charge was set against a close aide. Now, with the boy on home turf, with Dumbledore putting his money on the boy, and with Amos owing Umbridge no favours, he knew the obvious way forward – the pink slip for the woman who loved pink. He had to be seen doing something here.

"And your complaint is duly noted, Mr. Potter," he agreed stiffly. "I accept witnessing the same. Amos, please call the Aurors."

"CORNELIUS! YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO ME! THAT BRAT WAS BLACKMAILING YOU!"

"You were wrong, Umbridge. I cannot support a bigot like you, but being a bigot by itself is not a crime. You then went on to commit a crime in front of several witnesses." He shook his head solemnly as he said that.

Umbridge turned a shade of puce that Harry was sure Vernon would have envied. She then went a step further, drawing her wand on them. "You would side with that brat Cornelius?" she demanded as she jabbed her wand in their general direction.

Cornelius blanked for a moment; then his indignation and fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, overwhelmingly in 'fight' mode. "I will take the side of what is right, Dolores. In this case, that side is not yours!" The way he said it, fiercely, almost made the others believe that. Arresting Death Eaters was going to his head, it seemed.

Dolores snarled again and muttered something unintelligibly. She also seemed to be pointing her wand at the four of them (Amos was present, though by this time, his presence was only a side note). Dumbledore quickly stunned her. When the Minister turned to look at him, he replied, "I thought it would be prudent. She was muttering something and pointing a wand at us. It could very well have been a curse."

Sometimes, people made Harry wonder, really wonder. Threatening him was one thing. Threatening the one on whose support she was banking? That was a hit wicket if there ever was one.

Diggory used the floo to call the Aurors. Kingsley Shacklebolt the man on ministerial protection detail for the week (Fudge was paranoid about his security) was the one to respond along with Gawain Robards. To the youngest observer, Robards seemed to be more in the mould of Amelia Bones, uninterested in the politics, serious about his job. The nod and grin that Shacklebolt gave the Headmaster though, was unmistakable. This one could be an ally by association. Shacklebolt would need to be scouted. Lately, Harry was harbouring the ambitions of slowly **_inheriting_** Dumbledore's allies and contacts.

The Aurors came and took a protesting Umbridge away to the holding cells. It was only then that Harry retrieved a new set of notes and handed them to Dumbledore. He produced two more copies, one each for Diggory's and Fudge's perusal. "Chief Warlock, I understand that Madam Umbridge may only serve a small sentence, if at all for this misdemeanour. Unfortunately, it is only her latest. Here is proof about her being not only involved, but being the mastermind of the...ah...accident that rendered Melinda Webb crippled and her criminal intimidation of her sister Melissa. There is a long bloody trail behind her, a trail that has always gone cold. I hope it won't go cold now. She seems to be the sort to cover up investigations and seek revenge." It was a none-too-subtle reminder that he didn't need Umbridge after him.

"Of course it won't," Fudge forcefully declared. Then realising that his true reasons could be deciphered, he added, "Such bigotry and crime are not welcome in the Ministry," with as much dignity as he could muster, shaking this new sheaf of notes. It too had endured thorough primary perusal.

It was rather obvious that the subject was making the Minister uncomfortable. There was only so much that he could accept with a straight face. Amos intervened. "Mr. Potter, you said that the Ministry had made three mistakes. You showed us the first. What were the second and third?"

"It was what would logically follow from the first. The Death Eaters **_would_** escape. If you remember, Bellatrix Lestrange is Mr. Malfoy's sister-in-law. She could easily blackmail him, or kidnap his son, being his aunt. Under duress, Mr. Malfoy would have no choice but to let her and her family in. That again is one isolated example. Are you willing to take that risk, Minister?"

 _Merlin, but Potter could treat Malfoy, his Heir and his resources as the Minister's weaknesses and still get away with it_ , Amos thought with a mental grin. _The boy could play the man like a harp_.

"Of course not!" agreed Fudge. "The security of such people is paramount!"

"The third was the one that would destroy your career," Harry proclaimed.

"What?" asked the Minister, who was, by now, really scared. This was the second time he had faced the boy, and on both counts, he had been right.

"Should the first situation occur, and then the escapees attack Hogwarts, the Dementors would become the prisoners' allies. There would be panic, a number of high emotions, and it would draw the creatures in. It will be a massacre."

Who knew pessimism could be used in such a positive way?

Fudge visibly slumped. He never should have been talked into this decision. It was going to come back to bite him, he should have realised. Now it had. Umbridge and _Lucius_ had led him wrong. At least Lucius had backtracked. But it wasn't either of them who would face the music, was it?

"There is no real solution now, is there?" The question was directed at the two adults, so Harry kept quiet. "There is no way that I can recall them and not making it seem like we are reacting," he realised in a defeated manner.

Dumbledore eyed his current student. "I recall Mr. Potter saying that he had a solution. We have had him speak, a mere young man showing us the mistakes objectively. We should lend the same courtesy and listen to his solution as well. You did say so, didn't you, Harry?"

"I do have a suggestion to not only make the Ministry's position stronger, but also potentially force Black to commit mistakes," the boy accepted. "It will make the Ministry appear far less reactive, very pragmatic and foresighted."

Fudge looked like a man who had found an oasis.

"That solution is?" prompted Diggory.

"Release the news of the conspiracy. People will become vigilant. After a week, release a statement saying that in light of the new intelligence regarding the conspiracy, the ministry reassessed its strategy. Administer the Dementor's Kiss to the Lestranges, Dolohov and Rookwood before the news is released. Release the news of the prisoners' execution along with the statement, including a vague explanation of sacrificial rituals. Also since in light of this new intelligence, it is imperative to question Black, rescind the Kiss on Sight orders."

"We cannot kill them just like that!" Fudge protested weakly. And there he had come straight into the trap. He had accepted that the Conspiracy was the truth. And he had accepted the rescinding of the Kiss on Sight order. Everything else could be worked with.

"You can justify it, sir. Bellatrix was known to have proclaimed that Voldemort," he stressed, to shudders from the Ministry men, "is not dead."

"BUT..." This was bound to get a negative reaction from the Minister. The conspiracy was one thing. But the return of Voldemort wasn't something he could deal with.

"Minister!" snapped Harry. "Calm down. You are not committing whether he can be resurrected or not. The objective of the conspiracy was to resurrect Voldemort. Whether it can or cannot be done is not the matter to be dealt with."

"Right, right," Fudge breathed, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Again, from your advisors and allies who are marked, this has to be hidden for the same reasons as before: protection."

He received a fervent nod.

"Remember, Minister, this is only a one time solution. It will work **_only because_** the prisoners in question are the Lestranges, Dolohov and Rookwood. Anyone else, and you run the risk of alienating your support base," was the caution.

"Yes Mr. Potter." Then realising that was it, he relaxed and pondered over it.

Making a few hums, a few frowns and then a final doubtful face, he asked his last doubt, "I will be asked why I am digging that up, even with the conspiracy."

"Who else was caught with the Lestranges, Minister?" asked Harry slightly irritably. "They should have been executed at that time. Crouch gave a blanket lifetime imprisonment sentence because his son was with them! He confessed it to **_you_**!"

"Of course!" exclaimed the Minister.

Dumbledore was not sure whether to be happy with what was set to happen, because he had argued for that sentence, or be bothered by the way it was going to be brought about.

"I would once again ask you to exercise caution, Cornelius. If other prisoners find themselves kissed, any goodwill that this move might earn you will be eroded," he said gravely.

"They will, won't they?" Fudge agreed uneasily.

"Yes they will, Cornelius," Amos put in. This move, however it came about, and whatever way it was conceived in, could mean the most positive step taken by the Ministry since Black's escape. And politics aside, there was a lot of credit to the theory.

The fact still remained that it was so... _wrong..._ on so many levels that Harry, at thirteen, was in a position to make the Minister listen to him and accept his words and solutions. But that was the murkiness inherent to politics. Whichever way the people in power could boost their image, fill their coffers, and still make it seem like they were doing something, was the way they would employ. It never mattered who suggested the way. The people in power would always be puppets. It was the one who had their ear that was the one with real power.

* * *

Soon, after a few discussions with Dumbledore alone, the Ministry contingent took its leave. Dumbledore duly summoned Harry again.

"That was a dangerous game you played, Harry."

"I know sir."

"Cornelius could use executions as a political weapon."

"And you as a very perturbed Chief Warlock could always ask for your personal ratification before any such execution in the future, while convincing Fudge that this way his credentials remained unquestioned."

Dumbledore took one look at Harry and then laughed. "Very good; very good indeed!" he praised. "I intend to do so as soon as that execution notice is released. That was a test of your comprehension and understanding of a suddenly changed circumstance. I purposely did not speak today. Had things gone south at any point, I would have intervened, I assure you." He laughed again. "Care for a sherbet lemon?"

"I shall pass, this time. Umbridge left a bad taste."

Dumbledore became truly serious. "That is a real danger, Harry. You must now obviously know it was she who put the Dementors here. I have followed her rise. She does, as you said, have a bloody trail in her wake. Do not underestimate her. Ruthless people have ruthless contingencies."

"Yes sir. Your guidance will be gratefully accepted."

"And it will be willingly given," The Headmaster assured in dismissal.

Harry gave him a short bow. He was his guru, in all ways that the term was used. And sometimes the student imparted a lesson to his mentor as well.

As he left, Harry stopped and addressed Dumbledore again. "I just hope you don't make a liar out of yourself, sir."

This time, the twinkle definitely absent from his eyes, Dumbledore demanded (though he made it sound like he requested), "I would like to know what you mean."

"You did say that you will not allow blatant bigotry in your school. I hope it extends to students who use all those derogatory terms, and can still be shown the error of their ways. It would not do for the current generation to repeat the mistakes of old."

Dumbledore gave Harry a measured look and a pained smile. The boy had caught him in his words, and rightly so. "The truth of my words and beliefs will be backed up by my actions," he promised.

That very day, Dumbledore instituted a taboo against all the racial slurs used within Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy was the first to get the week-long detention, and conclusively proved that he hadn't changed.

* * *

In the drama of the day, both Dumbledore and Harry missed a very important thing. Voldemort, whether the Ministry decided to accept his continued existence or not, had just lost five very important enforcers. And secondly, a whisper of doubt regarding Lucius, who had first goaded Fudge into posting the Dementors around Hogwarts and then opposed the move in retrospect, had touched the Minister's mind.

* * *

 ** _Ministry Executes the You-Know-Who Resurrection Conspirators_**

 ** _Black isolated by Ministry move, to be further questioned_**

 ** _Dementors recalled_**

Sirius had been scared when Moony had told him about this. And now, he couldn't help but laugh himself silly. The pup had manhandled the Minister into eliminating five Death Eaters! He was a real Marauder.

Well, it was a case of I say to-ma-to and you say toe-may-toe, as far as calling him either a Marauder or a Slytherin went. The truth was that the boy didn't care for the terms, so long as what he wanted done was done. And in this process, he had exchanged gold with one enthusiastic free elf for his help with sleuthing. Wizards really needed to pay more attention.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy's POV is integral because he is the one closest to Fudge in canon, and therefore the most difficult rival for Harry's aspirations. Plus I really do hate everything to do with the Malfoys. The whole family seems to be a loathsome bunch.


	6. Chapter 6

**The King in Disguise**

 **Cornelius Fudge history doesn't correspond with the wiki info. Not a major issue.**

 **Also I have tried to approximate a drunk's speech, seeing as I won't attain the legal age to drive, let alone drink, for three years. It might make for difficult reading. In the absence of those slurs, I was unable to insert inappropriate jokes, and I really wanted to do that.**

 **Thanks to all favouriteers and followers.**

 **Thank you PaC, Guest, Guest and Fallow53 (guest reviewers), Arnold DeVillena, angelofheaven001, desireejones99, Nene-Akiko, loves to read books, MarilynT, Twilight Unicorn for your reviews.**

 **Thanks to alix33 for weeding out the language errors. Your gag reflex kicked in when you read it. Imagine the plight of my poor gag reflexes when I wrote it!**

 **To geetac: Thanks for correcting me with that well-placed review. It was easy to let Fudge get out of control and become a caricature. i hope I have improved a bit. Thanks a lot.**

* * *

Cornelius Fudge was, these days, a fairly relaxed Minister of Magic. Since early August, a series of events had occurred – well, since mid-July, actually, when Sirius Black escaped – that had changed the very nature of his decisions as a Minister. Since his election in April 1990, he had never truly _enjoyed_ being the Minister as he was now.

Cornelius had risen through the ranks of one of the most derided, and yet, simultaneously, one of the most important departments of all – the Muggle-worthy Excuse Committee. He wasn't even the one who created the excuses when he joined up. He was after all, a pureblood, whose only relations with the muggles came when he had had to step out of the Leaky Cauldron. That too was on the rarest of rare occasions. He wasn't even an Obliviator.

No. Cornelius Fudge was the go-between the two sides. He was the one who kept records of the excuses, the stories and the incidents. It was the most unglamorous position possible for a man of his lineage to have. He had tried his level best to show initiative. He had brought about a new filing system that coordinated the incident, and excuses implanted into, and the names and situations of the muggles in question. The new system meant that it was an easy reference. It had been replicated in various departments, and he had even conducted workshops about the filing system.

It had paid handsome dividends.

Soon he was seen as the man to organise. He had been called in to organise the structure of the DMLE very early on, in the late 1960s where he had essentially worked to streamline the records. He replicated the success across various departments. His detractors would say that he was shunted, but the fact was that he was coming into contact with practically every arm of the Ministry.

His work was lauded unanimously in the Ministry, because it solved one problem to at least a fifth of its extent. His system reduced the paperwork by twenty percent. With his reputation preceding him as he received new postings, Cornelius was one of the rare people who received smiles of approval even from the likes of Alastor Moody, and even Bartemius Crouch, as he was then.

Therefore despite being at a comparatively lower post, and from a pureblood house of not much repute in terms of its history or magical contributions, he had risen quite quickly through the ranks. More importantly, his efforts at making the Ministry more efficient had got him the Order of Merlin, First Class, awarded by Minister Bagnold in her last act as Minister in January 1990. **[** There had only been a declaration and not a proper ceremony as the woman had taken ill suddenly. That had led to people believing that he had awarded it to himself. **]**

This meant that he came into contact with people like Abraxas Malfoy, Claudius Nott, William Trescothick and several other benefactors of the Ministry from the older Houses than his own.

The Ministry essentially worked on the 'you scratch my back and I scratch yours' principle. So when he had been scouted by these stalwarts of pureblood society, he was expected to come to mutually beneficial conclusions in everything he did. They would put a word in for him amongst the higher echelons of the Ministry, and he, in turn, would return their grace in terms of personal favours in terms of seemingly innocuous information, a few tweak to the law, a rider to some bill and so on and so forth.

Unfortunately, his progress was obstructed by the Great War. You-Know-Who had nearly laid waste to Magical England. As much as he disapproved of several muggle things, Cornelius had never felt that the muggleborn had no right to magic. Without them the purebloods would eventually die out!

It was hypocritical, but he subscribed to the thumb rule of magical marriages – most purebloods would allow their sons to marry a muggleborn witch, but never allow their daughters to marry a muggleborn wizard. It was the reason why Andromeda Tonks was looked down upon, unlike James Potter. It was a horrible, conceited and condescending way, which made the muggleborn to be nothing more than breeding stock, but it was still better than most others. That was one of his motivations in opposing the Dark Lord.

When the war had ended due to a miracle, several of those who were the scions of those who had supported him were charged with Death Eater activities. He had been one of those who had rather willingly bought their Imperius excuse. They were people from respectable families. How else but with the use of an Imperius could they have gone down that path? He owed it to their fathers to believe them in their time of need.

It also helped that he benefitted from their dubious innocence. Their lack of a true, proper trial was something he had been able to hold over them. How that had led to bribery and corruption he never even realised. It had only started as donations to his election campaign.

He had lost control, thereafter. Cornelius Fudge, one of the people intimately involved with the lawmaking process had made laws to suit individual needs. It was always small things, very innocuous. They were fair in general, at least as he wanted them worded and therefore got them worded. But if some reaped better rewards, and he reaped the rewards from them reaping the rewards, it was all good in his book.

Slowly though, those rewards were things that they started to hold over his head. No, they didn't hold it as blackmail, but in terms of availability. Money became his weakness. A very horrible weakness it was for a man of his station and position to have, but he had it. When some people amongst his opponents got wind of this, he had been promised that they would be nothing more than minor irritants at best – the sort that Cornelius had learnt to deal with – and would otherwise be taken care of.

It was a vicious circle he had ended up locked in, thereafter, though with the risks versus rewards profile, he was loath to call it as such. But slowly and steadily, his supporters had started planting their own people in his office – again something he couldn't begrudge, given that he himself had risen through the offices on the backs of the very same system. But some, like the recently fired and arrested Dolores Umbridge, were people he wouldn't have allowed near him with a ten foot pole in between.

So he had taken to dealing with Lucius Malfoy personally. He was the only one among the people he considered respectable allies who didn't treat him like a brainless git or without respect. Lucius was the epitome of a good pureblood – charm, grace and wisdom. However, Lucius was often very convincing in his arguments, or was too pushy when he didn't get his way immediately. So it was that Cornelius had had to take completely stupid actions like putting the gigantic idiot like Hagrid into jail, or putting Dementors around Hogwarts.

Lucius wanted Hagrid to trade his freedom with the supposed Acromantula in the forest. Cornelius had rejected that out of hand. Nobody could be so stupid to have a nest of Acromantula near a school could they? It was not logical or sane. And Lucius had troubled the man enough. Cornelius couldn't, in good conscience – and contrary to popular belief, he had one in spite of being a politician – detain an innocent man any longer. He had been indifferent towards Hagrid before; upon his release he pitied him. With that in mind, he had put in a good word for him in the Diggory's department. Of course, that had more to do with telling the giant oaf about the good word so that he wouldn't have to tender a Ministerial apology.

The main problem, however, was that Cornelius had lost contact with his electorate. He might have been elected by the Wizengamot and many were hereditary seats, something that even Lucius didn't have and coveted, while most others were awarded to those who were Order of Merlin awardees, and Heads of Departments, but these were all, in theory supposed to be the people's representatives.

And he had learnt what he could get within just four months if he listened to people. Potter was admittedly not most people, but he didn't have much purchase apart from being the miracle kid of more than a decade prior. It was a series of extraordinary circumstances that had caused the two to cross paths, but the boy had been nothing short of a godsend since. The evidence of that was in the Ministry. People who looked at him with suspicion now were slightly open with him. People who openly feuded but couldn't be fired were quiet temporarily. But most importantly, people like Bones, whom he truly feared, were _supporting_ him.

Things had never really looked as good as they were now for him.

Adversity, necessity, and serendipity as well, have the funny way of bringing out either the best or worst out of people, of giving them ideas they wouldn't probably have come up with otherwise, or creating a completely different animal out of them. The unexpected good fortune accrued due to listening to sound advice, irrespective of the advisor's age and identity, put the Minister into the second category.

It was a reason for the Minister's newest favourite pastime – roaming through the various magical settlements and visiting magical pubs to, as he liked to call it, "get a read on the pulse of the public." He went through Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. He visited Hogsmeade and Wallace's Road. He sat with Rosmerta in her bar, and she had rather publicly thanked him for removing the Dementors. That was certainly no hardship.

The main reason why he did so, though, was to hear his praises sung. He _was_ that vain.

But he was a politician, so he knew that people were wont to say one thing to one's face, and deride a person behind their backs. He wasn't so stupid as to discount that fact. So about a week after the executions, he had decided that he wanted to know what the people thought of him, truly.

That was why he was seated in the Leaky Cauldron, under a hood, unbeknownst to anyone around him, and even to his security retinue. It was the first rule of truth. The best political analysts, and the most truthful people, can be found in a bar, down in their cups. The more sozzled the person, the more and brutal the truth he spewed.

* * *

"Say mate," he said to his fellow drinker after an hour of listening to the man's wife's, Martha's attempts at making the Kneazles claw him out because he flew around her precious roses on a broomstick at a height of five feet. To be honest, he was empathising with Martha. Being this man's wife must be torturous. "What do you think about what the Minister did?"

"Huh? Martha'sh not the Minishter!" The man was slurring horribly and therefore unintelligibly.

"Martha's a fool, having stupid Kneazles and rosebushes. I am talking about the Minister. Got those Death Eaters executed, didn't he?" It was a difficult job to keep his cool.

"You mean ol' Co'ny?"

Why was talking to the drunk a good idea again? "Yeah, him," answered the Minister as casually as he could. Corny! That man called him Corny!

"Bloo'y fuckin' liar, tha' one," the man answered with a knowing nod and a massive slur.

"What?"

"Whatcha actin' zif you're Co'ny?" the man asked and then chuckled immoderately at the 'joke'.

Cornelius consumed a few seconds and a bit of liquor to collect his wits. "Just nobody went out and called the Minister a liar, last I heard."

"Blimey! Where ya bin? Hidin' unner a shtone, 've you? Corny the Liar, tha's hiss name 'round these partsh!"

Cornelius was sent back all sails flapping at that. They called him Corny the Liar? His first instinct was to have the man arrested. Such slander! But then he caught himself in time. It wasn't just this man. He couldn't realistically persecute anyone for such slander, not when so many people were calling him the same thing, not when he was in a public office of the station of the Minister, and not when he wanted to hear what they were talking about him behind his back, and most certainly not when the person telling him this was so egregiously drunk.

"Why?" he asked rather weakly.

"Why?" Mr. Drunk was lost for a moment as he looked at the cloaked man in sheer bewilderment. "OI! Tom, Dennsh, Doriss, Greta, you lot! Get o'er here! Someone here needsh hish education!"

A bunch of witches and wizards looked over at the pair by the bar and grumbled as they came over. "What ish the mazzer Shtubby, you shtubby lout?" one of the witches asked, and then everybody laughed at what seemed to be a private joke. Or maybe, it was about the name.

"Thish oik here, he don't know why ol' Co'ny ish Co'ny the Liar!"

"Merlin's shagging shtonesh!"

"He is? Must be shomethin' 'bout great wizardsh. Touched in the head they are. Shagging shtones!"

"Morgana shave us!" declared Tom.

"Wha' d'you wan' 'er fo'? There's a good barber 'round here, for that!"

"We've got an oik to educate!" reminded Doris and received several agreements and affirmative grunts.

"How can you not know why he ish Co'ny the Liar?" Stubby asked incredulously.

"Now, now, shildren," Doris said in a motherly yet slurred voice. "Let ush educate thish one." There were various murmurs of agreement.

Tom – the patron, not the barman – started his story. "I wash a clerk, you s-see, in the Minishtry when You-Know-Who snuffed it. Terrrible timesh."

"Aye! Terrible, terrible..."

"Tha' Potter boy wen' an off'd him an all! To Potter!" cried Greta as she raised her glass and everyone chugged on their drink.

"I always shot Co'ny wash a Death Eater," Dennis said knowledgeably.

"WHAT?"

"Shhh! Calm down you ijit!"

"What?" whispered Co'ny...uh...Cornelius. "How can I- ah...can he be a Death Eater?"

"Tha's where thin's ah murky, see? I shaw ithall firsht hand."

"Whath happened, Tom?"

"All around, theresh thez Death Eatersh poppin up everywhere you see. My Da's friend from shchool, roomatesh an' all, an' e was foun' torturin' a muggleborn!" The others gasped appropriately to express their disgust and sense of betrayal on behalf of Tom's old man. "E din ev'n claim ze Imperiush!"

"He akshepted it?"

"Naw! He tried fightin' back an' all, an' 'urt some Auror, see? Bloke's matesh all ganged up on 'im and put him down!"

"Serves him right!"

"Yeah!"

"Ol' Crouch had the right idea!"

"But hish son wash a Death Eater!"

Nobody knew or remembered who was saying what anymore, just that it was the public sentiment. Cornelius had the relief that at least that action wasn't misconstrued as a political ploy, though it largely was. He had managed to convince himself that it was all about arresting a Death Eater who had escaped from the clutches of the law.

"There ish that," agreed Greta. "Never thought I'd shay zish, but old Barty became Barty the Barmy!"

That was rib-cracking humour for all the inebriated people. Drunkard's humour is something that only someone else who is drunk understands. It is all a secret code, with its genesis in the yeast that ferments the grains or the fruit to make the alcohol , so others don't necessarily understand the context.

"What's that got to do with the Minister?" asked Cornelius, wanting to hear more.

"Ah. That." Tom drank a bit more. "He wash goo' wit the pape'wo'k an all, wash ol' Co'ny. Tha's 'ow he got higher up. So 'e wass one o' the Junior Undersecretaries to the Minister then. He wash amon' thoshe 'oo decided tha' dem Deathy ter scum 'oo shed the're Imperiushed were sheepin' the trudh an all."

"But they were from respectable families! They couldn't have made such mistakes unless they were cursed!"

Tom roared out his laughter while spewing out the whiskey he had just had. "If'n Malfoy issh a reshpect'le pershon, then Imma leprechaun an' shit gold!"

That set the whole bar in peals of drunken, hysterical laughter, as he had practically shouted it for everyone to hear.

"If'n Malfoy wash a reshptle pershon then every roun' wudda bin on yeh Tom!" roared another customer.

"She?" asked Tom rhetorically.

Cornelius was on the verge of tears as he only barely contained the hitch in his voice as he muttered, "Oh Merlin!"

"That'sh ri'. But tha'sh no' all." This time Stubby took up the narration. "Y'all know 'ow Black'n Malfoy are related?"

"Yeah."

"Tha'sh y they've Black in Ashkabahn."

"Why'd they do tha'?"

"Don' you know? Black issh Potter'sh go'father! I dunno if it wash Malfoy 'oo wen' an' dun it, but it wash all a plan, see? Black ne'er got hish trial. They jus' wen' an' put 'im in Ashkaban, an' gave Pettigrew that damn award."

"WHAT?"

"Oh. I wash the Wishengamot junior errands-man. There'sh no record of any trial for him."

"But didn't Black betray the Potters?"

"'Oo knows? There wazzn't a trial wash the'?"

"But Black was a Death Eater, is a Death Eater. Didn't Abraxas actually protect Potter by ensuring Black was put behind bars?"

"Abraxas did it, did 'e? Din' know tha'... Neeway, 'bout Black...Dat's the point izzn' it? Nobozy _knowz_ if he wazz a Date Eater or no'! An' maybe Malfoy wan'ed ta offer up the Potter boy as a shaclifeish fo' some rit-rits...for some rishual to bring back You-Know-'oo. Many 'o the Deth Etersh claim'd that 'oo-No-'oo wasn' really gone. Dark family the lot 'f 'em. Ol' Abraxas an' 'is Father Shcorpiuz were tryin' ter get Grindelwald here in Britain, don' ya know?"

"What?" Cornelius was now not sure what to say.

"My Ggrandda told me once, tha' tha' Shcorpiuts bloke wa' roun' ter recoot 'im," agreed Greta who had largely been silent. "Tol' 'im tha' Grin'el'wal' wud drive away all 'em mugglebo'ns – mu'bloo'sh he call'd em."

Cornelius had enough of this drunken revelry of Malfoy-badmouthing. He'd do that later. "And again, what's that got to do with the Minister?"

"Are you daft like Ol' Co'ny? It's obviousss, innit, that Black was kept in Ashkabahn on Malfoy'zz orders? Ol' Co'ny can't move without hizz moneybagz's say sho. Loo' at ze lawj the've brou' in. All, Dateeter propaganda," recalled Greta with a scowl.

"I dunno weder 'e knew 'bout the trial or not," Stubby added. Well, Cornelius obviously knew _something_ about it, if his slip about Abraxas was anything to go by. But then Stubby wasn't supposed to know that this stranger he was openly discussing matters with was the Minister. "If Co'ny really 'ad a brain of hiz own, he'd've tried ter correct that. 'e didn'. Las' I 'eard, 'e waz tryin' ter shupott the campaign for the Potter boy to be given o'er ter some reshpt'ale falimy. Sheemsh lik' 'e wan'ed Potter gone juzzt azz much. All faliliz were Date Ears un'er the Imperiush."

"Oh my!" gasped Doris. "Oi TOM!" she hollered at the barman. "You shed tha' the Potter boy was hangin' 'roun' with tha' Minishter, din' yeh?"

"Yeah, he was," reported Tom. "I was worried about the boy you know. Poor thing, he doesn't know the first thing about who is who in the magical world. Fudge would have cut his throat with a hair and the kid wouldn't have know, Good thing it was that I reported to Dumbledore straightaway. I was worried he would give him to Black. After all, the only way he could have gone out of Azkaban was with help from the Ministry as with Crouch. I wouldn't trust Fudge if he was the last man on earth, and certainly not with Potter. It was a good thing that the kid had a ferocious dog with him. If Fudge would have tried anything, the dog would have made short work of the ponce."

Cornelius gasped. Tom was someone he was friendly with, although out of necessity as an old schoolmate and because as a barman he knew more than most. In his most unguarded moment, Tom had, in full possession of his wits, admitted that he didn't trust him. Had he really lost the people so badly? No, that wasn't possible. This was just political propaganda Tom was paid to disseminate. This was a ploy by his political opponents.

"Wha' did Dum'led're say?" Greta asked.

Tom frowned. "He said that Fudge was a true Hufflepuff, a loyal one. He did say though that he didn't believe Fudge would ever seek to harm Potter, but that personally he didn't trust Fudge's friends, before adding that his personal beliefs had no bearing on what the Minister should do. He did seem disappointed. He's right as always. They are the wrong sort."

Tom however wasn't done. He had something to add about the subject of Sirius Black. The sober barman can often direct the conversation to different topics.

"I heard what you said about Black, Stubby. If what you say is true, and Black turns out to be innocent, I would be happy to have him free and given custody of Potter. Even if he is insane now, he can provide a better home for Potter. I've seen lots of runaways in my time. Potter's one of them, mark my words. He ain't been living in a happy home wherever Dumbledore's placed him."

Cornelius filed that information away for future use, only to be stumped by the following statements.

"Still that's better than wherever our Minister would want him placed. At least Potter's alive where he lives. If Fudge had had his way, he'd have been killed or we'd have got another Dark Lord instead of that wonderful boy who likes to help people. Did you know that he happily helped everyone with their shops here in the alley? Wonder what being reared by them supposedly Imperiused twits would've done to him."

"Yeh know, Tom, you're a fool tha's wha' yeh're," Doris growled out angrily. "If'n yeh knew he wazz in danger from tha' Minister, why din' yeh try'n warn 'im?"

"Wait a minute, now," Cornelius interjected. "Hasn't the Minister been listening to Potter? That's what I heard. I know a bloke who works up in the Minister's office. He told me that it was Potter who caught the Crouches."

"Well the Minister's humouring Potter and using him, of course. Ministry help in getting a Death Eater out was through the father. Now he became a political liability. Potter might be clever and might even have found out. The Minister decided to do away with the problem and give Potter the credit," Tom hypothesised. "And if it really is as you say, then the Minister is buttering up Potter till he trusts him and then he can use the boy."

"And he had the Death Eaters executed," Cornelius countered.

"So he claims. Where's the proof?"

Cornelius was dumbfounded at the sheer dismissal of what he considered to be his most decisive stance and achievement in that regard. The others agreed with Tom, so it was given a complete short shrift! Well, he was not truly dumbfounded, but anything he said would mark him out as a Ministry man. He didn't realise it, but he was being introduced to the true nature of the relationship between the government and the people.

Scepticism and antipathy towards the government are hallmarks of the lives of the non-elected section of society, which (irrespective of whether the society is a democracy or not) quite often rightly believes that it won't be properly represented. They are also the best micro-psephologists.

Cornelius was ever-so-thankful for the hood he wore. Wow. These people really thought he was a villain. Dumbledore thought well of him, but didn't trust the people he trusted. The people, in this bar at least, didn't trust him or the people he trusted either. He was considered a threat to Potter – to Harry – a boy who he saw as helping him, and who really hadn't spread any of these rumours. In fact, if he was helping the people, he had earned their goodwill.

His first thought of having Tom arrested was scuppered by the simple fact that he couldn't have proved that Tom was spreading such slander. Then again, Tom was also only stating his opinion. Also, even if he could prove it, he would be seen as spying on his people, and oppressing them. Worse still, people would stand by Tom, at least in this place, and would say that they never heard him say anything like that. Tom was a well-liked barman. The public could turn against him if he randomly persecuted people, no matter how much they deserved it.

The cold chill of fear gripped him again when Stubby said, "Tha's y Greta's gone an' said yeh're a fool. We could jus' wri' ter Potter an' tell 'im about the Minister. If, az the oik sayz, he really caught Crouch, he'll be clever enough to shtay away."

Suddenly, several of Cornelius' wonderful daydreams of using the boy's fame went up in smoke. Oh this just wouldn't do. He continued to just listen as topics soon moved to ridiculous things, including Stubby claiming that he had once satisfied a whole coven of Veela. Cornelius really had no heart in it. The drunks wouldn't write, for a drunken person rarely follows through with his ideas and plans declared during a round of drinks with friends, but Tom, who had gone behind his back to Dumbledore, would.

He took his leave as soon as politeness would allow. Soon after, the man named Stubby released the charm he had cast on himself which made people lower their inhibitions around him, dropped his act of a drunk, apparated to Hogsmeade. He met up with the defence professor up at school, who had come to visit, received a bollocking for the risk he had taken, and curled up after a scrumptious late dinner in the Shrieking Shack as a dog, dreaming of freedom and the coven of Veela.

* * *

Cornelius paced in his chambers as he thought and thought. He needed to have a drink for real and a good long soak to think things over. One thing was clear in his mind. He had to preserve the fledgling relationship as a political mentor he was trying to establish with Potter.

That was one of the things he had chosen to focus on. The rest of his disguised interaction with the public had turned out to be a fiasco. The worst part was that this interaction took place in the Leaky Cauldron which was situated at the entrance to the Diagon Alley and therefore had patrons comprised mostly of the majority of the shopkeepers and business-owners from the Alley, Magical Britain's largest commercial area. In political speak, that translated to a very large percentage of taxes and sales revenue. So even if they were not entirely representative, they were still sizable.

He paced and paced before his elf brought him the whiskey and his bath-clothes. Black, he realised, was an important factor. He also remembered that Dumbledore had testified in court that Black was the traitor.

There were lots of ifs. And there were lots of pitfalls in this. He did something funny. He made a list.

\- _If Black hasn't had a trial, it must be brought forth._

\- _If Black hasn't had a trial, then the Kiss on Sight order must be rescinded._

\- _If Black hasn't had a trial and Abraxas obstructed it, then Lucius must not know of it._

Why, he asked himself. Then he snorted. Compared to what Black could bring to his campaigns, Lucius was just the richest man in a small town. Of course, that was through the claims he had heard from Lucius as he went on about how Cornelius would benefit when Lucius' son inherited. This move would mean essentially dumping Black, _if he was innocent_. If he wasn't, he would wrangle things to get him executed, and then Lucius would get the Black monies faster than he anticipated. Either way he couldn't lose. Better still, if Black wasn't sane, he could eventually wrangle the Black fortunes for Lucius, get Potter his godfather, and since Lucius would be regent for Black, it would essentially mean that Harry would be wrested from Dumbledore's control into Lucius' who would owe him more than Cornelius could ever owe him. **_That_** was a plan.

\- _If Dumbledore knew, this could be used to wean Potter off him._

\- _If Black turns out to be innocent, with some help, Potter's custody can be awarded to him._

He felt slightly bad about the fact that he would be essentially denigrating Bagnold. She was one of the people who had helped him rise. But he was a ruthless politician. He was, really! He was also someone who had realised that his campaign to use the Potter child as a political commodity was dismantled by his absence. This time, _if_ Black was innocent, he reminded himself, the thinking, helpful Potter, whom he could mentor, would become a political commodity worth its weight in platinum. That Potter would look at him as a saviour of sorts, or that Cornelius would have two less favours owed to Potter would be the icing on the cake.

After all, anyone who has done you favours politically is the most dangerous ally to have.

Cornelius relaxed as a fledgling plan started forming in his mind. That was slightly better than the panic he had felt just an hour before.

###

I am back!

I also have three other story arcs going through.

1) A post-GoF, with a more proactive Tonks helping Harry during that summer (wouldn't be the pairing though; more like a tentative brother-sister relationship).

2) I have already posted in the 'One-shot Compilation' story. It is a post-war tragicomedy.

3) A reincarnation story involving the Dumbledores, which is partly inspired by Paimpont's 'The Strange Disappearance of Sally-Anne Perks'. That's all I'll say.

If I can expand either enough, and if people are interested, I'd write one.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Real Enemy**

As usual, ich danke Ihnen: mwinter1, davycrockett100, geetac, Love Faith Embers, disneypenguin, alix33, mizzrazz72, Dr. Stranger. I've been taking a few lessons in DeutschJ. Also, special mention to the Temporal Penguin for his help with the Gringotts part of this story. He is continuing **The True Story** on this account. Do check it out! Be warned, though, he writes big, and I mean BIG! Also, as in Prophetic Intervention, it will be Charlus and Dorea.

* * *

Three days after the clandestine meet-and-greet with the Minister, Sirius was sitting in the now heavily renovated and tastefully furbished first floor of the Shrieking Shack. Moony only ever needed it on Full Moon Nights. If there was another werewolf who'd come to Hogwarts he'd happily help Dumbledore out with the kid. So Sirius was seriously contemplating purchasing the shack. It had beautiful memories for him.

This comfort meant that he was also left with more time free, more time during which he didn't have to worry about his godson, more time during which he didn't have to worry about his own survival, and therefore more free time than it was safe for someone like Sirius to have. He was bored; thoroughly, completely bored. There also wasn't anything fun to do. He wasn't being troubled by horrible, soul-sucking, fear-causing, happiness-robbing demons, so his mind was also deliciously free of the mind-numbing fear that at least occupied him during his waking hours.

So he started to worry.

He worried whether, once he was freed and exonerated, there would be any witch willing to date him. He scoffed at that. Birds dig an injured bad boy. And Sirius was bad, very bad. Then he worried about having the ability to sire pups. Not that Azkaban affected anyone that way, no. It was just that he had been rather out of practice for the past twelve years. He needed practice. He needed lots and lots of practice. It was a bit like swimming and cycling. One didn't forget it. One just had to refine the technique. That was on his to-do list.

But then he realised that was for later. Long ago, once upon a time, there were four little boys playing pranks, before one prank turned fatal. He hadn't pulled a prank since...since he didn't he even remember anymore. Wormy needed to bear the brunt of retaliation. They had already caught him, or rather bought. He was currently being imprisoned in Remus' house which wasn't in use as he was at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had tasked an elf with keeping the little rat stunned and switching the contents of his stomach so that he wasn't starved but he couldn't escape either.

But the point wasn't that. They had Wormtail. The Ministry didn't know they had Wormtail. They needed the Ministry to know Wormtail was alive, but not that they had him. Also they needed many more than just the Ministry knowing that Wormtail was alive. That meant they needed Wormtail to be shown to the world in a way that nobody could refute.

This needed some deep, deep thought. He paced, he chased his tail as a dog and then rolled about on his back. That was all warming up. Now he could think. From what he knew, Hogwarts had no ways to detect Animagi. He, Prongs and Rat had frolicked around enough without getting caught to know that. The problem was that the ward was hideously difficult to cast and ridiculously exorbitantly priced. Walburga, because of whom he had earned the moniker, SOB, had had it placed on Grimmauld Place when he had tried to sniff out Kreacher so he could give the stupid elf a scare. Then he grinned. Buying publicity was not beneath Cornelius Fudge.

He had an idea, oh, he had an idea. He would probably have to sacrifice a secret, but then it could be worth it. He furtively looked around to ensure that nobody had come to check up on him, and then as giggled madly as he had when the Marauders had arranged for Dumbledore to have an impromptu shave while he was asleep in their second year.

The very next morning he fired off a letter to Dumbledore, telling him that he had a plan. Sure enough, the old man came over with Remus, that evening.

* * *

"I quite understand what you are trying to say, Sirius," Dumbledore gravely agreed. "However, with the costs involved, Cornelius is bound to ask why."

"Oh." It was such a great idea when he first thought of it. Then he had another idea. "What if I forwarded the money through the Black Vaults? You've got the Headmaster's discretionary funds, haven't you? I know you do. I remember reading about Phineas Black investing it and reaping the profits. Nobody ever realised he was doing it because he was clever enough to keep the funds at the same level throughout his time as the Headmaster."

"I do, yes."

"Well, consider it a donation from the House of Black to help keep its last son safe while he learns within the castle's walls."

"You have made Harry...?"

"Who else would I ensure would inherit after me, Malfoy and his brat?" He then cackled at idea.

Dumbledore did not share in his humour, and it showed in his frown. "One must be sure to have what one offers."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say that while some of you relatives are well off in their own right, there is something as being too well off, all of a sudden."

Sirius understood what Dumbledore was implying only too well. "I will do it immediately," he promised.

"If it doesn't overtax your funds, then a discreet donation of about twelve thousand galleons will be appreciated."

"I will see what I can do," Sirius promised.

"Very well," agreed Dumbledore with a nod. "Was there anything else?"

"There is. There are two things, actually," Remus said. "We don't want it revealed that they became Animagi to help me. Harry wondered whether he could be memory-charmed to make him forget that. I hear my predecessor was very proficient that way."

"He was. You can imagine my plight when he was the only applicant. As far as the secret goes, I understand. Padfoot needs to be kept a secret. That issue can be addressed. What was the other thing?"

"Harry pointed out that we may have to protect you, Albus."

"Protect me?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling madly at the idea.

"Yes. You remember again that Sirius wasn't the Secret Keeper. However, you did testify then, that he was. Harry suggested replacing the spell upon you to ensure that nobody calls you out on that."

"Ah, yes, of course," chuckled Dumbledore. "Quite a few changes have been effected by him and he has undergone quite a few to."

"Has he?"

"Oh he has. Till last year he was quite Lily-like in his nature, while preserving the part of him that was James, the typical Gryffindor. That's not to say that James was not clever, but he was never the sort of person who'd seek to use people or to make them look up to him. The younger students did, but that's another matter."

"And now?" asked Sirius, slightly impatient at the Headmaster's meanderings.

"Now he has started learning the art of showing people what one wants them to see, at the precise moment and in the precise way that would have the right effect. I am less worried about things now." He eyed the two over his half-moon glasses. "Did you know that he has not spoken a word about Umbridge, the executions or Crouch?"

"Good Lord! If James had done it, he would have ensured everyone would know."

"Yes. Harry, however, has not boasted – but then he has made no attempts to hide those facts either. And since he has been copying my flowery language – which "makes him want to swear" – while still keeping naivety in age-appropriate amounts, he has quite a few people unsure about his ways and motives. Without trying to, he has the attention of people, even without the boy-who-lived pomp."

"Is that good?"

"So long as he knows that he may sometimes have to retreat or use others, rest his bow on their shoulders, so to speak, it is. It is why I want you free faster. You were never interested in politics, truly, Sirius, but you know the background. He will need a face, and till he can be counted on his own, you'd need to be it."

"..."

"Really Sirius, you are his godfather. Given the stage of his life that you will start being a part of, what did you think your role was going to be?" Remus chid.

"I don't know. I just thought I could get away with pranks and advice about girls and stuff. All these things you're talking of, it just was Uncle Charlus' thing, you know. We thought he'd be around forever. We just had to fight and win against old Voldy. We never thought things would happen this way."

He was targeted by two disapproving stares. So he coughed slightly and went about changing the subject. "I will get the vaults checked immediately."

"Will that be wise?"

"The goblins wouldn't bother with human problems. Their word is not considered by the law. Why would they care?"

"Greed is a moral by itself, my boy. For the right price..."

* * *

Dumbledore's suspicions proved to be, unfortunately, very true. It didn't make for a very happy Sirius, obviously. Sirius wouldn't risk entering Gringotts'. The Goblins were untrustworthy buggers who worked for whoever paid best. Their so-called tenets of honour and honesty and profits and what-not were simply smokescreens they employed to protect their name.

So, of course, Sirius had to buy their silence with five thousand pounds in lieu of a contract that clearly stated that they would not tell anyone about the transactions and the vault check without Sirius Black's permission and that those three thousand galleons covered both the vault check costs and their silence. Unfortunately for the beasts, they had agreed at the figure and Sirius had kept his wits enough to add the clauses.

Malfoy had taken his whelp to Gringotts', and as Sirius was unavailable, had had himself declared as the caretaker for the seat. Since Draco was of Black descent, a trust vault with a yearly cap of a hundred and fifty thousand galleons (the highest amount allowed for a trust vault) drained money to the tune of one point eight million galleons from the Black vault. That was about nine percent of the Black Wealth. And that was the recorded part. He was going to assume two million to round things off, at a minimum, an even ten percent. So, apart from being a heinous terrorist, he was also a thief and swindler. Nobody was surprised. Draco's vault had already been refilled for the year 1993-94, so fortunately, it would be the last amount he would swindle away.

The only saving grace was that Draco, being underage, couldn't access the Black vaults. And Lucius, being not of Black blood, would never be able to.

The twelve thousand galleons that Dumbledore needed were very easy to forward. The wards by themselves were not too big of a problem. Sirius was now worried about the after. One of the solutions he **_had_** to use to deal with Malfoy was obvious. But it wasn't enough.

* * *

"Minister, it is Headmaster Dumbledore on the Floo!" Janice, the secretary informed her boss.

"Is he now?" asked Fudge mildly. That was how those with power spoke. He had plans, and one of them would ensure that Dumbledore wouldn't be Minister and would take Potter away from him. He had convictions and he had belief that his plans would work. He was a man of power. He had to act like it. "Yes, Headmaster?" he asked as he kneeled down to receive the call.

"Ah, Cornelius, I hope you have some time?"

Fudge made a show of checking his watch. "I do have five minutes, Headmaster."

"Excellent! It speaks well of your regime that people of your stature can set aside time for the little people."

Fudge only nodded, though he was fighting down a gleeful smile. He always had that problem when he as praised. "You had some work?"

"I did indeed. You see, the other day, my teachers and I were discussing ways to increase the protections. We realised that we do not have protections against Animagi. We intend to lay the wards on the first Sunday of the New Year. I was wondering whether you would consent to participate in the ritual, or attend perhaps the ceremony."

Now Cornelius was in a fix. Contrary to popular belief, he was not completely stupid. He had a vague, but not too vague, idea regarding what went into casting wards. And he knew that, in truth, he wasn't exactly the person to help as he truly wasn't that powerful. If he attended, he would be seen as doing something, irrespective of the fact that the only thing he would be doing would be sitting and observing people cast magic at the ancient castle.

"I have called in the Prophet to say that we will be hosting a ritual ceremony, the first in three hundred years, for new wards," Dumbledore continued cheerfully. "It is important because while the standard wards are re-laid or updated by every Headmaster, this is a new, more complex ward, and the ritual will be important enough to show the world that Hogwarts, with the Ministry having knowledge of the fact, is always evolving in its attempts to secure the safety of her students."

Cornelius' stomach dropped at that. Albus had created a situation which he simply couldn't dare be missing from. Good bloody Merlin's sagging nuts! He had to contribute in some way. He had to be seen doing it, not tell anyone he was doing it, and still have everyone know that he was doing something. For the first time in his life, Cornelius Fudge found himself in the place of so many who contributed to his campaigns. The irony that he was contributing to Hogwarts and in turn was generating goodwill for himself was not lost.

"Of course I will be there, Albus. In fact, as a personal contribution, I will forward fifteen thousand galleons towards this effort."

It took the entire extent of Dumbledore's not inconsiderable prowess at Occlumency and experience, to prevent the look of incredulous wonder from blossoming on his face.

"Such generosity from our leaders is not only to be commended, Cornelius, but to be applauded. It will be with great honour, then, that Hogwarts will recognise you as one of her Great Patrons."

The dropped stomach rose till it almost blew Cornelius' chest out. Damn all those donations, this by itself was prime campaign material.

"The honour is mine, Headmaster. It is a poor student who wouldn't help his alma mater when he has the means."

* * *

It was on Christmas Eve that Harry met his godfather again. The lessons were all over for the term, so Remus shed his Professor persona and became Moony, the surrogate uncle.

"So, kid, how was it?"

"Much better this term," answered Harry. "You know, **_nothing_** happened on Halloween! Something always did, and this year **_nothing_** happened!"

"Yes. I should have attacked the Gryffindor common room or something, you know, painted it all in Sly...in Sly...in green and..."

"What's happening to him?" Harry asked Remus worriedly.

"That's his reaction to even thinking about his beloved Gryffindor common room in Slytherin colours. He wanted to marry it when he was younger," Moony replied solemnly.

"Hey!" protested Sirius indignantly.

They spent the day and the next as a family, and it was truly the best Christmas ever. Both Sirius and Remus regaled Harry with stories of his parents and grandparents, which he lapped up enthusiastically. He had to go back to the castle periodically to ensure that nobody would get suspicious, but that apart, it almost felt like home. Truly, it was the people that made homes.

"Moony told me that Malfoy was a thief."

"Yes. I am unsure what to do," admitted Sirius. He had no qualms treating Harry as he would an adult, in these matters. "Well, apart from one obvious step, that is."

"What can you do?"

"All I can do is lock them out of the vaults by disowning Narcissa and her son from the Black family."

"Have you done it yet?"

"No. I need to get into my Merlin-damned house and decree it. I thought they had disowned me, but apparently, my grandfather thought better of it."

"Thank Merlin!"

"What? Why?"

"Why waste it now when you can use it to shame them later?"

Sirius was now suitably intrigued. "Explain."

"I don't know much about the older families, but I suppose given the fact that Malfoy could steal money for twelve years, yet not run out of it, you are one of the richer people around?"

"Yes. He has taken about a tenth of my money."

"Good bloody Lord!" swore Harry. "This is excellent and this is horrible! How could the goblins...?"

"Wait. Listen mate, you are moving too fast for me to handle. Stay on topic. What way were you giving me to shame Malfoy?"

Harry blinked stupidly, then resumed. "Yours is an old, prestigious family, isn't it? And getting kicked out of it would be shameful?"

"Yes. Yes."

"So once you are freed, you become the head of the Blacks?"

"As I am the only living male Black of my generation, yes."

"So you are practically the most powerful Black, at least politically, once you are free. Plus, you will have lot of hatred against anyone bearing the Dark Mark which nobody can say a word against, and a lot of reason to doubt them."

"Yes. Oh, I get it. Kicking them out now only makes Malfoy irritated without me having my freedom, which is a dangerous situation to be in. Once I am free, and with the show we will put to expose the Rat, I get public sentiment on my side, so when I kick them out, the Malfoys are publicly shamed, and doubts about everyone's credibility across the board are raised."

"Exactly," agreed Harry. "I can already imagine your words in the papers. "Anyone bowing to another man's whims and fancies to murder, torture and terrorise is less than human in my opinion. Having suffered the punishment for the actions of such an individual while being innocent, I refuse to allow the House of Black with anyone bearing the Mark of Voldemort. Narcissa Malfoy is no cousin of mine, for she willingly consorts with one whose innocence I doubt. I have been betrayed by the law, and have for so long been bereft of justice, that I doubt the innocence of anyone with the mark who walked free. The law does not work retrospectively, but it too has been fooled. My decisions will always be in favour of my House and my motherland. Every marked man or woman is a traitor to our society and our motherland. I stand here to say, NO MORE!""

Sirius grinned widely. He could bring them down in a swathe, this way. "I like it." He imagined the traditional business partners whining and wailing. And then he had an idea.

"Would you trust me with the Potter vaults?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I have an idea which might help recoup the money."

"Do tell."

"Money was stolen from the Black vaults by unscrupulous means. Through the trust vault number 911, Lucius Malfoy has stolen money to the tune of nearly two million galleons. While the Black Wealth was not seriously harmed, it was a crime and considerable harm nonetheless. The Goblins have acted in their honour and by their rules which the wizards have agreed to with regards to vault claims. However, in light of the fact that such a travesty has occurred, the House of Black no longer wishes to bank with Gringotts until such time as the money stolen is retrieved. By rights, in light of the fact that I was alive, there should have been a temporary suspension of the vaults. This has been contravened. The Potter family has allowed me regency for the coming four years, till Harry Potter attains majority. So to protect those interests, those vaults are withdrawn from Gringotts with immediate effect."

"That's a good idea, but I have a few questions before I agree."

Sirius nodded. It was Harry's money, and he wasn't surprised that the boy wouldn't immediately trust him with it.

"How does the banking system work here? What are the interest rates? Do they have Forex trading? Do they have investment accounts?"

Sirius stared at him blankly. "What?"

It was Remus who fielded this question. "For your last three questions, the answer is no. I do not myself have an active vault owing to my affliction, but I remember Lily asking James these questions. You see, the magical society is very small, and prides itself in being self-sufficient, technically. Some like the Greengrasses own farms, real farms where they grow food crops, cotton and such. They compete with the Longbottoms who have also been an agrarian family historically. As such the older families essentially had their own hereditary businesses and jobs.

"Now since most people don't need to buy or sell outside of the British community, they don't have the concept of growing money, as Lils called it. The vaults are just that – vaults. People only store money in vaults. There is no concept of interest. There may have once been, but there hasn't been one since the Goblin Rebellion that handed all our finances to them.

"As for Forex trades, bullions and such, do you think they do? They regularly trade five pounds for a galleon, the cost of gold notwithstanding. Most of the money Gringotts makes, legally, is through curse-breaking, warding services and as intermediaries over will disputes. That is because blood magic is as good as illegal in wizarding customs but they can use it.

"But the real money they earn is through fleecing the people. So far as I understand, Gringotts has vast holdings. They use the money in the vaults for their own purposes and are only obligated to keep the level the same. All things said and done, they earn money through their holdings quite aggressively. Plus they must have some reserves to ensure they are not called out. That apart, they are known to make hideously horrible loan deals – horrible for the one who asks for the loan, that is. There is at least a deal per year which gets them more securities or gets for them many attached properties or business or such."

Harry frowned and frowned as Remus lectured on. "So we are effectively ruled by them?"

"Yes. You could say that."

Harry got up and paced a bit. "This is shite. This is utter shite. What you are telling me is that there is no competition, the goblins are using our money – on loan, mind – and we don't get interest, while they fleece people out of their homes and hearths, while also lying through their fangs and betraying their customers left, right and centre."

"Mind your language Harry," Remus scolded automatically. "Yes. What you are saying is essentially true. I must add though, that people are afraid of the goblins because they kill by swathes in their rebellions."

"Well if someone could use brains and come out of the bloody medieval ages, Gringotts could be destroyed! Who needs those beasts? They are just Death Eaters in another garb, mercenaries and murderers!"

"There was a bill that supported hunting goblins."

"Those people are idiots. We can't kill them but we can and must destroy their economy. Unfortunately, it complicates matters."

"What are you saying?"

"The Malfoy thievery could be exposed and it will do nothing beyond making those animals angry. All things said and done, two million galleons, on the overall scale to which Fudge must have been fed by Malfoy could very well be peanuts."

"So taking back the money will serve no purpose beyond getting the goblins angry, Malfoy shamed, dangerous and angry – not that I care about him – and Fudge will no longer be completely receptive," realised Sirius.

"Similarly, kicking them out of the House of Black will be only a small measure of petty revenge."

"So I shouldn't do it?"

"Not as of yet, no," reasoned Harry. "It was a pipedream to have all the Death Eaters destroyed, but it makes no difference. Their money, our money, everybody's money is in the hands of the goblins. No matter whom we expose, it won't matter in the end. Everybody has one, common, and largely silent enemy, Gringotts."

"You are agreeing with Umbridge," Remus pointed out coolly.

"I am. On this matter I agree with anybody who classes them as beasts."

"The same bill that does so classes me as a beast as well."

"And that is where they are fools. Our job is now to convince the magical world that the Goblins are our enemies. For **_everyone_** ," Harry stressed. "I have an idea but it needs work."

"Go on," prompted Sirius.

"We need to somehow convince people to demonetise the galleons, sickles and Knuts and use the national muggle currency instead."

"Harry, that is the most insane and impossible idea I've ever heard. Even the Death Eaters will be able to go have muggle accounts."

"Exactly."

The two elder men had a feeling of an oncoming migraine.

"They will destroy the banking system!"

"Not if all magicals can have accounts only in banks run by magicals, and those running the banks are required to sign binding contracts and swear oaths."

"I still say it is insane. The magicals are too resistant to change. And there is nobody living who hasn't used the current currency."

"It isn't insane. I don't have a plan, but this can work."

"And what about Voldemort?" asked Remus. "I know he isn't dead. What if whatever you're thinking alienates the Goblins so much that they side with him?"

He received only a rueful shake in response. "Voldemort has the same enemy too, Professor. But his elimination is necessary. I understand that."

He fished out his ubiquitous notebook and pen. "You see we have several variables and elements to work with after Sirius is free. There will be a fallow period of time, because the Death Eaters will have to regroup. They can't strike immediately in any manner. That leaves us with the Death Eater closest to the minister tentatively under Sirius' power. They must have, between them, a lot of money. So we have to find enough information to be able to bring them down first." He noted all that down. "At least one of them has to know how Voldemort is still alive. That issue has to be addressed. They can be manipulated for their money.

"I need information about the taxation and the collection cut that the Goblins must take. That can be used later to convince Fudge.

"Next it will be necessary to save our money first from their greedy hands. The word has to spread – when more people start withdrawing money, their structure will automatically collapse. In the meanwhile, people will need an alternate banking system. That requires loan capital and starting capital, will have to be according to regulations, so either a guideline or something of that sort is necessary. The currency acts as a regulation, so demonetising the Galleons and Sickles and Knuts has to be synchronised with the use of the Pound Sterling or euro. Some people may have outstanding loans with Gringotts which may have to be bought and re-lent under regulation. We'll need new arbitration courts. New schemes for non-physical payment can be used."

He was practically thinking aloud. The two Marauders were looking at the boy, perplexed, and in slight fear. When he looked up again and grinned, Sirius felt a frisson of terror. "It is time that humans reclaimed their money from Goblin hands. A new bank which doesn't use galleons is a possible solution."

"Harry, think about the risks," cautioned Sirius in a shaky voice. Now he understood why and how he was supposed to look out for the kid. That didn't mean he could do it, just that he understood the scope.

"Whatever happens, Sirius, I promise you that we won't lose money. And this way, I think you'll get to call the Goblins liars, piss on the Death Eaters and earn more. By the time you're free, I will have a plan that reduces the blood-bigotry, gets us financial freedom and could possibly help Moony."

Remus and Sirius shared a rather sceptical glance. The pup was insane, really.

* * *

The Great Patron is something that I think could exit similar to how some Universities hand out PhDs to donors and patrons.

The solution will be described through situations in further chapters and won't be verbally described. The Penguin helped me flesh it out.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Seeds of Unrest**

Ich danke Ihnen, wie immer: **Lazymanjones96** (don't boast, I am sure I am lazier than you are), **alix33** , **Love Faith Embers** , **panther73110** , **Snowball1982** , **geetac** , **Djberneman** , **Dr. Stranger** , **Grime'SS** , **mwinter1** , **Cool-Fanfiction-Lover** , **Slytherin's One True Prince** , **sunsethill** , **Guest** , and **Guest**. Thank you: all readers, followers and favouriteers.

As an aside, I read 'My Immortal' before this chapter. An author: xxMidnightEssencexx has re-posted it. I was inspired...almost. It is sheer brilliance to be able to keep such quality constant.

Harry undergoes a slight learning curve.

* * *

"Good evening, Arthur, Molly, and children, though I use the term loosely," Dumbledore greeted the family as they were courteously welcomed.

"Good evening Headmaster," Arthur replied. He was a bit flummoxed. Which of his brood had done exactly what to warrant a meeting with Dumbledore?

The Headmaster chuckled. "I daresay that you are reaching totally erroneous conclusions, if your frown is any indication, my dear boy. I assure you, this meeting is not in connection with any misdemeanour, real or imagined on the part of any of your children."

Arthur's expression cleared. Dumbledore tended to forgive people, so anything serious enough to warrant his personal attention had scenarios of expulsion running through Arthur's mind.

"Is there any special reason, Headmaster?"

"Yes." He was interrupted by the warning about "Harry, Remus and a dog." "It will be easier to explain with the aid of our guests." The twinkle in his eyes dimmed alarmingly, thereafter. "The matter is grave enough to cause me legitimate fears about the safety of your family."

"Dumbledore?" asked Molly with a quaver in her voice.

"Please, Molly, it shall all be explained. Come in," he called.

The room was soon in splits at the comment that followed: "One day I am going to get into this office undetected."

"The day you do that, my boy, I shall be required to retire," Dumbledore answered. "Please be seated."

"Professor Lupin?" Percy uncertainly wondered.

"At the moment, it would be prudent for me to be only Mr. Lupin, as I am not here in my official capacity," Remus replied tightly. "Without resorting to further dramatics, I will put the matter straight out for you. Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, you have been harbouring a murderous, treacherous criminal for the past twelve years."

"WHAT?"

"Please, allow me to explain. I suppose you remember the rat we bought off you over the summer."

"What about Scabbers?" Ron asked.

"It is doubtful whether you paid much attention to it, given the fact that the rodent may have at any time run through the garden or may have changed or for any other reason. The truth is that it never did. It was an animagus by the name of Wormtail..."

"Wait. By Wormtail, do you mean _the_ Wormtail, of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?" one of the twins asked.

Remus blinked and turned to the Headmaster. "It seems the Marauders' Map has been found after all, Albus."

"How do you know? What is going on?" The twins were mightily disconcerted by their secrets being revealed.

"Considering that I was one of the four who created it, I would say I have every reason to know." The boys gulped. "However, that is immaterial to the present discussion," he continued brusquely. "While in school, we Marauders took names. James Potter was Prongs, I was Moony, the traitor, Wormtail, was..."

"This doesn't make any sense, Mr. Lupin," Arthur interrupted. "If by traitor, you mean the one who betrayed the Potters..."

"I do."

"And if he was in our house..."

"He was."

"Then who was in Azkaban?"

Padfoot barked once. Then he transformed. "Sirius Black, also known as Padfoot of the Marauders, former inmate of Azkaban, and godfather to one Harry Potter, at your service," he proclaimed grandly. He frowned when Molly shrieked and backed away, brandishing her wand at him and Arthur shepherded his flock...er...kids away from the man.

"Dumbledore!" the harried father of seven cried. "What is...?"

"Calm down Arthur, Molly, boys, Ms. Weasley," the Headmaster sternly ordered.

"But..."

"Calm down."

They did, eventually. But their chairs shifted away, before Molly realised that Harry was sitting beside the mass-murderer and she furiously beckoned him to her side.

"Mrs. Weasley, we just told you that the real traitor was in your house and we have him sequestered," he gently reminded her. "The real traitor, Scabbers or Wormtail, was also an animagus, who went by the name Peter Pettigrew. Sirius is innocent...of that crime."

"You really didn't have to add that qualifier," Sirius protested.

"Can your general innocence be proclaimed, Padfoot? I thought it would be insulting."

"Are you sure Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore sighed and grabbed Arthur's arm before flashing away with Fawkes. When they returned five minutes later, Arthur had a grim set to his face.

"Arthur?" Molly called.

"It is true," he replied shortly.

The grimness didn't suit things for Sirius, in spite of his form, and he decided to do things his way. "Okay, since we have been pretty much shit..."

"Language!" scolded Molly on reflex.

"Whatever," Sirius brushed it off. "So we have bollixed up breaking the story to you gently. The simple summary is that I, Sirius Black, unregistered dog animagus, best friend to James Potter and godfather to his sprog, am innocent and was framed by Peter Pettigrew, unregistered rat animagus, ex-best friend and secret keeper for James Potter, traitor. I was put into Azkaban without trial, a situation actively helped along by Abraxas Malfoy, and known to our dear Minister."

"That's impossible," declared Percy officiously. "Minister Fudge is..."

"A pompous arse, one who did not recognise me when I talked to him a few days ago in person," cut in Sirius. "Listen boy, I know the rules like the back of my hands. I needed to, to be able to break them when I fought against the Dark Wanker Voldemort and personally injured him."

It was thereafter clinically proven that four out of five Hogwarts-attending Weasleys found Sirius Black a heroic person. The parents were scandalised by the language but in agreement with the content, while Percy was just scandalised. Sirius, who wanted to shout out all his anger at the Ministry for so long, found a very suitable candidate in the Head Boy.

"So I don't give a...well, your mother would scold me, but you understand...for the Ministry. The rules, you prissy little idiot, are made by the people like Malfoy, the same Death Eater who tried to murder your sister..."

"That has not been proven!" Percy responded indignantly.

Sirius brushed him off with a glare, as he continued, "...and who, once I am free, is answerable to me in some ways because he is also a **_common thief_**. You are here because we fear that the Rat may have done things to any of you, and because we are trying to find an appropriate way to settle things for your family with that Death Eater. Did you understand it or do you want things simplified further to suit your low-level intellect?"

They did not test again, but if they had a few months later, it would have been eight out of nine Weasleys who recommended Sirius Black if you wanted to set your kid straight. Percy was indignant now. Nobody called him stupid.

"I am sorry," Sirius said to Arthur and Molly. "But I had to say that. I saw this one while we were at the Cauldron, but seriously, this sort of obsequiousness is disgusting. If he has any ambitions at all, they will fail with this, because he will end up being someone's sycophant and that someone may have an enemy who will obstruct his path just because they can. This behaviour won't take him far from either being a junior-level red-taping bureaucrat working with Cauldron bottoms, or a weapon to be aimed at someone else when his seniors don't want to get their hands dirty."

Arthur nodded grimly in agreement. "It is not the way we would have told him, Mr. Black..."

"It is Sirius please. About the only good thing my bigoted fool of a mother did was giving me a good name which lends itself to a pun."

Even Molly couldn't fully hide her mirth at that. "Yes, well, Sirius, as Arthur said, it isn't the way we would have set him straight, but I can't disagree with the content. If this has no effect, I doubt anything else will."

"Oh you were going to set me straight, were you? And what, were you going to try and make a junior-level bureaucrat in the Ministry, or an unimportant head of some unimportant, underpaid, understaffed, under-sourced department like father?" Percy spat in a vitriolic manner.

Everyone looked at Percy aghast.

"It is a testament to your inability to understand matters, in direct contravention to your lofty ambitions, Percy," scolded Remus coldly. "Your immaturity in these matters is astonishing."

"I am not wrong!"

"Aren't you?" asked Harry, just as coldly as Remus. "If you weren't, you would have realised that your Dad is in the position he is in because the department, and in turn he, is a political liability in many more ways than one!"

Thus far, Harry had never actively dressed anyone down. Well, Dolores Umbridge was a target, so she didn't count. But here, here he was angry with Percy for his attitude towards his own father. Arthur Weasley was a man of modest ambitions, but he was an honourable man all the same, someone Harry looked up to. And Percy had the sheer temerity to look down upon him.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said softly.

"No, Mr. Weasley. He asked for it. Now he must know. Magical society has one great rule of life – adhering to the International Statute of Secrecy. Your father works in the single most important department to that effect. Admittedly, it is under-scoped, underfunded, understaffed, under-sourced, undertrained, and looked down upon. I mean no offence, sir," he addressed Arthur.

He in turn shook his head as a wry smile appeared on his face.

"And that," continued Harry, "is the effect of the same self-serving conspiracy that gave rise to the blood purity in its present form, an institution in effect from 1692, aimed at the eventual takeover of the world by magicals only. Muggles create, learn and innovate more in a single year than magicals have in decades. Your father deserves the same importance and cadre as the Head of the DMLE, or the Chief Unspeakable, with the Department of Magical Catastrophes and Accidents being a part of his own, because muggles use more items daily than we use spells.

"This department will remain in the doldrums because it doesn't serve the Death Eater propaganda of passing off potions as drugs, passing off Dark Arts items for daily use and what not. And you are buying into the Death Eater-created perception of your father and his department."

Ron had only ever seen his best friend that agitated the night they went after the Philosopher's Stone. Hearing him defend Arthur so vehemently struck a chord with Ron, who, more often than not felt shame about his family's paucity of resources and the low esteem that his father was held in. The idea that his father was being persecuted by a corrupt Ministry because he was good was far more palatable to him, as it left him with a feeling of a moral victory. He didn't think of it that way obviously, but when the revolution came, Ron knew that his place would be by Harry's side. He didn't know it, but three more of his siblings were harbouring similar thoughts.

It was a while before anyone else spoke. It was Dumbledore who broke the silence.

"If this matter has been resolved to your mutual satisfaction, may we proceed to the actual reason you are here?" Dumbledore asked. He received nods in response. "Good. Today all of you will need to visit Healers Boyle and Boyle. I have taken the liberty of scheduling an appointment with them. It would seem important to keep this matter quiet to ensure that no attention is driven to the fact that both Percy and Ronald were assisting a criminal during his twelve year stay with you. It would be an unsightly blemish on their records, in spite of their ages and therefore their obvious innocence, not to mention the scandal it would be for your family, were it to be known to anyone else in _any manner,_ " he pointed out, gazing over his half-moon glasses at his Head Boy who flushed.

It was a moment that the Weasley parents caught, and they were visibly ashamed by the behaviour of their third son.

"As it happens," continued Dumbledore as if he had, just then, not accused his Head Boy of trying to help the Ministry frame an innocent man again, "this is particularly of importance for Ms. Weasley. I did not press you to have her undergo special treatment for her year under possession last year, but as evidenced by Remus' reading of the situation with regard to her reaction to Dementors, it would be wise if medical help is sought."

"Why did you not say so over the summer?" Arthur asked.

"I had asked about, very discreetly of course, about the costs involved. You would need ten thousand galleons at the minimum. It therefore fell to me, as the Headmaster of the institution to raise funds for the same, as she was attacked while under my care." Arthur was about to protest about charity, but Dumbledore silenced him with a raised hand. "It is indeed within the remit of the Headmaster's discretionary funds which have had an anonymous donor in recent months," he informed with a significant glance around the room.

"We could still have arranged for a loan, sir," Mr. Weasley stated, with a nod at Sirius. That meant he was going to accept it, and had also realised who he had to thank, if ever.

"I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy, Arthur," Dumbledore replied. "A loan through anyone is finally a loan through Gringotts. In spite of your son's position, I would have advised you against such a course of action."

Arthur and Molly nodded with a grimace.

They left through the floo soon after. The parents were the last to go.

"Arthur, Molly," Dumbledore called out. "I truly apologise for this, but perhaps Percy may be better off not remembering who he really met."

After the initial shock over what was being suggested passed, Arthur looked to Sirius, then through the floo, and then nodded at Dumbledore. "I agree." Then they left.

Dumbledore sat in his chair and looked at his other visitors expectantly. Finally, Harry commented, "Except Percy, everything went rather well."

"You call that going well?" Sirius demanded sarcastically.

"Yes. Mr. Weasley knows that you are innocent and that they housed Wormtail. Obviously, Mrs. Weasley will accept that too. Defending him against Percy's rather...prejudiced outlook, means that she will support you no matter what; same with the younger four. It helped that Ron, in particular, has an inclination to feel persecuted and a slight victim syndrome.

"And then Professor Dumbledore spread some credit around between you and him. Since he is, well, him, he always does what is best for everyone, so it will be like qualifying something as twenty-four point one carat gold. Therefore what they will remember is "Sirius Black helped us". Then there is the whole matter of being shown trust with such a big secret. Mr. Weasley being an honourable man by nature will feel duty-bound to report any suspicious movements regarding Sirius' case.

"Then Professor Dumbledore showed enough distrust for unnamed Ministry elements if they got wind of the news, and reminded Percy that he could easily be made the fall guy if he had any ideas about informing the Ministry. The fact that Percy could choose such a line of action meant Mr. Weasley had less compunction when it came to allowing the Professor to modify Percy's memory," summarised Harry. "In short, here onwards the Weasleys will be willing to side with us on principle, and if the current government becomes a liability, may provide an excellent source of information."

Sirius looked at him with wide eyes. "Alright, I witnessed the same things and I am sure I did not see all of these things at all. Did you, Moony?"

Remus shook his head.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as Harry gave a very correct description. He was almost ready now, in Dumbledore's opinion. If he could use every situation to learn, if the boy observed every situation that well, then Harry was ready. Yet, sometimes, some things had to be openly explained. That could be chalked down to the impetuousness of youth.

"You have missed one important lesson, however, Harry. Percy was a lesson. Can you think what that was?"

Harry thought about it hard, and honestly nothing came to mind. "No sir."

"You once again underestimate a vindictive and angered person. Just so you may remember this well, Percy will not remember Sirius or anything about him, but your dressing-down he will. If I know him well, I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to give you detentions every now and then. It was a lesson you should have remembered with Umbridge."

Harry grimaced and nodded. He needed to write that down. He was perhaps the only person to get lessons in politics from Professor Dumbledore, including personal – and personnel – manipulation. He did so and admitted, "I was angry with him. How can he be so willingly blind and look down upon Mr. Weasley?"

"It is among life's many mysteries, Harry. Nobody shall ever know why a person chooses to not see. It falls to others to work around it."

"He is an idiot. But, as you said, I must learn my lesson." Then he grinned. "We also learnt that Professor Dumbledore doesn't trust the Goblins much either."

"That is an interesting way to put it. Why have you reached such a conclusion?"

Harry handed over his little notebook and showed him the doubts about the goblins he had written down.

Dumbledore read and his eyes widened a tad, before he nodded approvingly. "Very good," he said with a smile. "Completely justified conclusions; however, if I may now so suggest, the Compendium of Goblin Rebellions and Treaties would be a very interesting read, as would a recent history of the Wizengamot, its members and the laws they brought in and what they voted for."

He then flipped through the book, which included childish drawings, several questions about everything, including, "Why does D trust S, even though he is a DE?" He chose not to remark upon it, but perhaps a bit of misdirection right now was the need of the day.

"And another parting lesson for you to remember," The Headmaster told his pupil, as he handed the notebook back, "never reveal all the information you have, not even to those you trust completely, and even more importantly to those in authority. You have this habit of giving the notes or this book, and it's a rather bad habit to have. I could misuse it, and you would forever be at a disadvantage."

Harry might have been a clever young man, but he still viewed Dumbledore largely with starry-eyed respect, and as such, in the situation was beaten by lack of experience and a touch of hero-worship. He also was too caught up in the situation to not realise the way Dumbledore's voice had changed as had his manner of speech. He didn't even realise that mistake till much, much later, and even then, it was in private. By then, Harry had long since learnt that one cannot have everything going one's way, nor can one think of, plan for and execute every plan for every situation. Losses help savour the successes. This didn't even count.

Dumbledore, on his part, was not a bad person and therefore neither commented nor acted upon any of the things he had read. But he was not yet ready to divulge information either. He, however, now knew that Harry was treading close to the questions which would lead to the information he held dear. It would be time to decide whether to reveal it soon or not. He had a question though, to ascertain the boy's stance.

"Do you think you could do that on a regular basis, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, his tone containing curiosity which only he knew to be affected curiosity.

"With people who don't mean anything to me, yes, I could. But if I had to do that to Mr. Weasley or Sirius or you or Professor Lupin...well, I entertained the idea, really. I put them in Fudge's place. It made me feel great solidarity for my wand. I think I know how it must have felt when I pulled it out of the Troll's nose."

Well, the boy certainly had no dearth of analogies that would make anyone feel squeamish. Dumbledore was also touched that he was considered among people who "meant something" to Harry.

He did not realise that Harry did not say that such a feeling would prevent him from such a course of action. He had already earmarked the Weasleys as test cases for the demonetisation plan.

* * *

Over that week, Sirius and Dumbledore also met up with Augusta Longbottom. Sirius had a very good reason for that. The vaults of the Lestranges were going to go up for claims in May. There were no known Lestranges left, but in the event that someone did turn up, there was a period of six months for them to do so. After that, there would be several parties that could apply for the vault. Sirius, if freed was the one with the best claim. He intended to offer half of the contents to Augusta, and the other half to Andromeda Tonks.

The continued hospitalisation of Frank and Alice was not kind to the Longbottoms' finances, so the offer was readily accepted. The offer was made after his innocence was proved and she willingly offered help in the Wizengamot, so neither had much bearing on the other. If at all, it did soften her views towards the House of Black as its lone living member was doing the best he could towards her house, and in general, in the given circumstances.

Moreover, the idea that such a travesty of justice had occurred made her even more inclined against the Ministry. That wasn't the objective, but Augusta was clever enough and well-connected enough to pass innocuous comments here and there to make things uncomfortable for certain people. That was a completely desirable outcome.

She also accepted the invitation to be a part of the ritual.

* * *

Four days before the Ward-Casting, the declaration of Cornelius Fudge as a Great Patron of Hogwarts was made. It was an automatic place on the board of Governors, an honorary teacher's position if he so desired, and a sash and certificate for his personal benefit were part of the Patronage.

Interestingly, people suddenly found that the annual pay of the Minister of Magic was ₲37500. Since he appealed each year for timely payment of the twelve and half percent of taxes, people would end up being very surprised and more than suspicious of the fact that Mr. Fudge could manage giving away an amount equal to two thirds of his annual pay.

The same people, of course, wilfully ignored the fact that he might have inherited gold or savings. He was a politician, so obviously that money couldn't be anything but ill-begotten. Nobody chose to speak, but _everybody knew_ that he must be corrupt. Therefore the money he had donated was deemed as a way to absolve him of his sins.

In an ideal world, Fudge would not have been kept off-balance by either Harry or Dumbledore. He would have been the first to know about Sirius' wrongful imprisonment. But then again, in an ideal world, there would have never been a Voldemort, let alone an innocent man in jail. They had to keep things dicey even for someone who was tentatively receptive to their goals and approaches, so that there was no sudden action that Fudge could take to derail their plans.

* * *

It was the second of January. There were very few students in the castle, but those who had stayed back, including the Weasleys, and Hermione, helped decorate the castle. For many students, this was the first exposure to such magic. As such, seeing the normally colourful-robe clad Dumbledore wearing the druidic robes was just as much a novelty. It conformed to the idea of magic that most muggleborns had.

So when Flitwick, Snape, Lupin, Vector and Babbling (Minerva as an animagus herself, couldn't participate) emerged from their rooms in a similar fashion to join Madam Amelia Bones, a man known only as Croaker and Augusta Longbottom, the students, especially the ones of the first three years, behaved like children, stepping over each others' toes as they fought to get a glimpse of what was going on. That was till the other teachers helped conjure raised and tiered platforms for them to stand on in the grounds, where the ritual was to be performed.

Dumbledore held several large crystals, which would be 'blessed' or 'enchanted', for want of a better term. It was possible for any magical to have an animagus form. But each one could have just one, and then only a non-magical creature. The stones would be detectors and trappers.

The problem with the ritual was that there were so, so many creatures in the world, that it was nigh on impossible to account for them all. This was where magi-zoologists came into the picture. They were the ones they procured the essence of each animal from. For mammals it was the hair, for insects the whole bodies, for birds their feathers, for reptiles and fish their scales, for amphibians their skin, and so on and so forth. Then there was the essence of man – human hair and a drop of blood from each caster.

The earth around Hogwarts, the essences and the crystals were then all boiled together as they all chanted the ritual chants, till all that remained was the crystals which now glowed with an electric black, if it was possible for black to glow. They then proceeded to bury these crystals around the boundaries of the school.

Throughout this process, Maurice Clarke, the reporter, kept on an irritating commentary while Bozo, the photographer, snapped away like a Colin Creevey on steroids. Fudge made a grand speech about the protection of Hogwarts and much more waffle, as did Dumbledore, and Professor Tofty, the chief of the Wizarding Education an Examination Board of which the Wizarding Examinations Authority was a part.

It was a carefully constructed drama with a definite purpose. The stage was set, the trap was baited. It was a matter of when.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Traps**

Thanks to sunsethill, daithi4377, Kairan1979, Love Faith Embers, Cool-Fanfiction-Lover, Dr. Stranger, alix33, Guest, Guest, davycrockett100, RRW, mwinter1, Ziatrice, and Grime'SS for your reviews.

 ** _Broom prices are not mentioned in Canon._** There is much focus on Dumbledore. He is meant to be a study in power, and there are several aspects to the power that he holds, but not necessarily wields.

Secondly, here is a small argument in favour of Harry/Gryffindor over a Harry/Slytherin or Harry/Hufflepuff or Harry/Ravenclaw pairings. Why did no Slytherin ever approach others while making a bid for power themselves, supposed neutrality (a thoroughly fanon concept used so widely and so convenient that everyone believes it) notwithstanding? Why were Hufflepuff so quick to turn on Harry during the Chamber of Secrets and were in general thoroughly antagonistic unless he was useful to them? Barring Luna, which Ravenclaw helped during the "invasion" of Hogwarts by the Death Eaters?

Sorry for the mini-rant, but I still got reviews about how some pairing was better than the other. Pairings, in the wise opinion of The-Kop-Who-Scoused, are bullshit. Any "love" interest is another person who can be used against you, who can become a risk directly or indirectly. Harmony is convenient because we **_know_** that Hermione can handle herself.

* * *

Sirius' Christmas gift would be late. He had ordered a Firebolt for Harry. Yes. The man had gone and ordered a **_professional_** level broomstick for his godson who played in the **_school league._** He had, unfortunately, also paid the money already, and he had told Harry the news with such glee that Harry was reminded of Blackie the dog who loved playing ball with his human godson over the summer.

As much as Harry loved the broomstick, he could see the questions about his own ability being raised if he played with a nine thousand galleon broomstick against any of the school teams. It did not cultivate the right image. A modest, but good broomstick, however, gave him the "skilled underdog going against the big spenders" goodwill.

Slytherin did not count. After learning that Malfoy was a thief, the obvious answer as to where Malfoy sourced the money for ten broomsticks worth seventy five hundred galleons from, had been answered. Or so they thought.

Seventy five thousand galleons equalled **_half_** the amount Malfoy stole **_and_** emptied each year. So Harry had asked whether the Black family had any investments in the magical world. As it turned out, they did. And they also had long-standing patents. And the combined expected return was a quarter million Galleons each year, since they had practically monopolised the magical enchanting and artefacts market during the time Sirius' grandfather – Harry's great-uncle – was still alive. This man had died almost immediately after Sirius' imprisonment, they found out. So that was another ₲3 million that Malfoy had swiped.

The Goblins obviously didn't mention that. Sirius never asked about it, and though the money went into the Black Vaults, they were under no obligation to mention that. It was another five thousand Galleon contract that bought the information and their silence. Sirius might have gotten one over them once, but the Goblins had taken more money from him in the long run.

Malfoy had not stopped at just stealing. He had used that to invest in the broom manufacturing business in 1985, so far as Sirius had been able to find out. Harry didn't question about the source, but if it was true, then Malfoy would not invest in **_one_** company. He was too clever to do that. He would exploit the burgeoning competitive market for all it was worth.

1986 was also the year when magical carpets had been banned in Great Britain. It was only a coincidence, wasn't it?

Sirius had been very incensed, to say the least. He very much wanted to send Malfoy a Christmas gift. As much as Harry agreed, it would have hurt Sirius' chances post-freedom. But there was a need to get back at Malfoy. It was urgent. Malfoy had done too many bad things; far too many. Keeping him in the game was dangerous. He needed a permanent fall from grace. And he had played with lives, innocent lives. Not just during his career as a Death Eater, but also when he gave Ginny that diary. The notion made Harry feel sick to his core.

Did he deserve to be killed? The answer was yes, a hundred thousand times yes. But it couldn't –wouldn't – be him that would do it, nor would it be Sirius. It had to be Fudge, or even better, an overwhelming wave of public outrage that would force the Wizengamot to destroy this cancer. And that was the immediate problem that the new player decided to address.

There was also the question of Harry's own honour being questioned. Malfoy would be paid back more than he could bear to take.

Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, Malfoy could not be taken down the way Umbridge and the Crouches had been. He was obviously too clever for that. Trying Gringotts for a money trail was out – there was no telling what Lucius had insured that information with. Even if they tried to buy off the goblins in the interim, there was the likelihood that they would already be contracted, about the only way of ensuring an honest transaction with the Goblins, to tell him if such information was sought.

Not having a Wizengamot seat actually worked in Malfoy's favour. He had no vote trail of his **_own_** to unravel. He was voting for the Black seat, and so far as everyone was concerned, Sirius had toed the family line. If he guessed right, with Voldemort's "there is only power and those too weak to seek it" concept, taking out some or those in the Wizengamot could probably play right into Malfoy's hands, provided he had his own people out for those seats. Surely, being a Death Eater was competitive, with the currency being life?

Somehow, the Diary was both the problem and the solution. And the solution was going to be in a way he had never thought before. As it was, it was only chance that brought up some very vital points when the most effective way flirted with the rough edges of the law.

The first one was a very innocuous discussion that he happened to overhear between the OWL students. It seemed there was an underground Cards and Gambling scene in Hogwarts which was about as surprising as wet water. It was a complaint: "Melissa always holds her bluff!" that had the wheels in Harry's mind turning.

They needed an elaborate bluff. One that Malfoy couldn't call. They needed away to expose him to as many people as was possible, pulling his bluff.

The second was Herbology. They studied Achilles' Shoots. These were vicious, ankle-grabbing, flesh-eating, innocuous-looking plants of the same genus as the Devil's Snare. The keyword was Achilles'. They needed to find Malfoy's Achilles' heel. Till the end of his life, he could never ever understand how seemingly random things gave him clues.

What now remained was putting it all together into a plan. He would take that man down.

It was all personal. It was also good business.

* * *

The broom came late on the twenty eighth of December. It was bereft of any card or anything at all, except for a few jaw marks, and black hair. The mutt had drooled over his broom! Unfortunately, Harry was sitting in the common room, and there were a few people who admired it, but none with the sheer apprehension that Hermione looked at it with.

"It's a Silberstern 729S," Wood remarked as he read the name etching upside down. "This is a very good broom used by the German U-19s. It's good enough and not too expensive. You have got a good friend out there Potter," he declared approvingly, before calling out to the common room as a whole. "Alright you lot, this is for House honour. Nobody knows that Potter has this broom, understand?"

He was answered by a chorus of "Yes Captain!"

"Say Ron, is this a good broom?" Hermione asked, once Wood was outside hearing range.

"Of course it is," Ron replied excitedly. "We always think about British manufacturers, but this one is a very clever buy! It's over just over ₲4500, and has decent enough manoeuvrability, fair acceleration, though not the best, and excellent top speed! It is the exact broom Harry would need at this level, and enough to show everyone he is a good seeker!"

"Oh," Hermione seemed to visibly deflate. "I see," she said with a slight quiver.

"What?"

"It's funny isn't it? Harry needs a broom and suddenly the best choice of a broom, almost a Goldilocks broom, is sent to him. It's almost as if someone wants him to have it."

"Who though?" piped in Neville. He studied with them these days. "There are very few people who have that kind of money to spend on a whim. And none of them would spend on Harry. No offence meant, mate."

Harry brushed that off. He knew what Neville was pointing at.

"That's just it. I think it is the one man who is after Harry who sent it to him. I think it was sent by Sirius Black!"

If she expected scoffing or derision, she did not get it either from Harry or Ron. Neville at least, looked grim.

"Of course, I quite forgot. It must be Mr. Black," Ron declared. "I forgot about him."

"Mr. Black?" Hermione demanded.

"Okay. I think we need to go to a better place than the common room for this," decided Harry.

"What?"

"Not here Neville," Harry replied shortly. "I thought your grandmother would have written to you. I wasn't sure whether I am supposed to let her tell you or I should tell you," he added with a shrug.

They went down by the lake. Sirius had taught him quite a few things. Summer had been a busy time. Of course, for Sirius, secrecy was tantamount to planning pranks, but it was useful all the same.

"Who taught you those spells?" As if Hermione could have really asked any other question...

"Let me give you the short answer. Sirius Black is my innocent godfather, who was framed by Peter Pettigrew who lived as Ron's rat Scabbers. He saw the picture and broke out to protect me. I already knew that there was something wrong because he had injured Voldemort. Anyway, we met over the summer and bought Ron's rat. He is currently imprisoned somewhere by Professor Dumbledore. Sirius did send me the broom. He also met your grandmother Neville for House business." He turned to his cousin. "That covered all?"

"You forgot that he is bloody brilliant!"

"Oh. Yes. Sirius is bloody brilliant."

Hermione was already lost at "Sirius Black is innocent."

"I would rather like a well-fleshed out full story than an outline. And why does Ron know?"

Ron's ears turned red. "Professor Dumbledore said that that man, Pettigrew, who was Scabbers, might have done some things to us all. You know, spelled us or something. We had to go to the Healers."

Hermione and Neville stared at Harry, who gave a resigned sigh. He was picking Dumbledore's bad habits. He gave them a brief recap, touching on every incident, starting from the summer. They were all kids, more than he ever was, so they wouldn't pick on _why_ and _how_ he knew to do what he did. They didn't. They were, however, awed at the destruction of the Crouches, Umbridge and the executions.

He didn't mention the Malfoy thievery. Those were family matters, and moreover, given everything else that he did tell them, and they being too invested in Gryffindor ideals, they would have taken offence on behalf of poor Sirius. That meant one of them, most likely Ron, engaging Draco without thinking. Ron was a good person, but his chess skills didn't carry on into real life. Dumbledore had asked him to be economical with the facts. Who better to practice on than his friends?

Of course, when Harry once more copied Dumbledore and said, "I trust that this shall remain a secret between us?" he was treated to three very enthusiastic nods.

"Bloody hell!" swore Neville. "You had an eventful summer."

"I did," Harry replied with a grin. "But now I am going to strike at Malfoy."

"Why him?" asked Hermione.

"He was the one who released the device which released the Basilisk last year." He knew that Hermione knew who the device was possessing, but if Neville didn't, there was no need for him to know, at least from him. "He wanted to murder children. Proof, unfortunately, is elusive, since the device had to be destroyed."

"I am finding it very difficult to not call him a few choice names," she admitted. "It will be funny if his...what did you call the followers of You-Know-Who?" Her tone was very chagrined due to the fact that she had not remembered a fact she had read. She shied away from Harry's narrowed eyes. He had seen what the others had not. Hermione was usually very tired, often irritable, and forgetful these days.

"Death Eaters," answered Ron automatically.

"Yes. It will be wonderful if his Death Eater friends find out that Malfoy had endangered their children. The basilisk has no sense. If anyone of that bunch had crossed its past, they would have died too!" she indignantly stated.

The three boys goggled at her, before Harry bowed down to her. "My brilliant, brilliant Lady!" he smarmily praised. "All hail Hermione!" He then made an exaggerated show of kissing her cheek. Hermione blushed to the very roots of her hair, while Ron and Neville hollered.

A little while of being teenagers later, they were back to business.

"How are you going to free Mr. Black?" asked Hermione. She was a bit offended that he had told Ron first, but after Ron's explanation, she understood. Being the daughter of dentists, one of them a forensic dentist, she was rather familiar with doctor-patient confidentiality. It would have been incredibly rude of Harry to say anything at all. So now that she knew there was no danger and there was still an adventure with friends to be had, she was all geared up.

"It's a surprise. It will be a huge reality show that nobody can escape from."

"It's about freeing an innocent man Harry!" retorted Hermione, not understanding how it could be a show. For her, things were cut and dried.

"No. Until Pettigrew is exposed to the world, people will never truly believe Sirius. This is going to be a media circus. Having Pettigrew's photograph on the first page of every paper will ensure that people will _know_ that Sirius was not guilty. It is a game of public perception. They should eventually see him as the strong survivor, a great man, which he is."

"So just like people _knew_ he was guilty?"

Harry merely smiled.

"You know," piped in Neville nervously, after his customary silence while others spoke. He was more bovine in nature, willing to churn, digest and ruminate over words instead of grass, than anyone Harry ever knew. Yet he was not the most confident person around. It was interesting how, beyond the basic difference of being extroverted and introverted respectively, Ron and Neville were very similar as far as confidence went. It would be useful sometime, Harry decided. "We will have to pointedly steer clear of Malfoy for a few weeks. I can almost hear him saying: "When my father hears of this..." over every little thing. No need to stoke fires where there are none," he reasoned.

Harry didn't want to kiss Neville, but he was just as happy with his friend. Neville had given him Malfoy's Achilles' heel.

* * *

"That is one brilliant girl, even though she doesn't yet realise it!" chortled Remus.

"She is, isn't she? She just has an unfortunate tendency to bow to authority."

"It's a phase, Harry."

"I hope so. She is too valuable to be wasted by such a flaw."

"That she is."

"You will tell him? I have got Potions next."

Remus grimaced involuntarily. His relationship with Snape was about as cordial as England and Russia. "I will."

* * *

It was the twentieth of January that the plan was sprung. Pettigrew was released just outside the wards of the castle as a rat. Seeing himself outside of Hogwarts, the rat knew there was something wrong. He had waited for so long for the Potter boy as a rat. The first two years he wanted to do it, but he had felt his master's presence. He wouldn't dare to show himself.

To a rat's mind, while simple tricks might be very important, the passage of time was not. He just accepted the winter and scurried towards the castle. Just on the boundary line of the ward, he sniffed. There was a smell of many animals. Then again, snakes, cats, dogs and the forest-dwellers were common, and who knew what that oaf, Hagrid liked to breed. He wouldn't put it past the idiot to try breeding a cross-bred cat-dog-camel-hippogriff-dolphin-whale while he was at it. And then try and get that creature to have wings.

So, on he walked through the warded gates, unmindful of the newly-laid ward,

Knowing not that danger waits, newly posted by expectant guard.

And then he got stuck. That was an understatement. The ward had locked him in as if he were in mid-apparition as a rat, and was squeezing him. Bells tolled in the distance, as the alarms went off.

Within the castle, the Headmaster sat upright as he heard the alarms. He saw his familiar, Fawkes, hovering in the air with a paper. It read: A) Trust Sirius Black. B) Call Amelia Bones, Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt. C) Call Reporters and Cornelius Fudge.

Knowing that this was a fail-safe he himself had arranged for, he hastened to comply. That the date was the second of January, the day he remembered laying the ward, told him he knew more than he remembered. These ominous messages in his own handwriting and the equally ominous circumstances had him hurrying towards the boundaries. The other professors who had helped him lay the ward hurried to join him as well.

A call went through the school as all prefects were required to lead the students back to their dormitories. The teachers still in the school were ordering everyone about with a really iron hand. Having learnt from the previous two years, they actually performed a head count thrice.

Down by the boundaries, the checks were meticulous. It was not a false alarm for sure. It was also a tremendous PR exercise. Cornelius Fudge, Great Patron of Hogwarts, had welcomed the presence of the press. He had helped and he bloody well wanted the world to see the results. As it happened, it was on the closest edge to Hogsmeade that the search party consisting of Babbling, Snape and Auror Clement found the rat. Nobody bothered to free it till the Minister came. There would be hell to pay if they did. This was Fudge's party.

Sure enough, when the whole bunch of people descended upon the location, there were several photographs of the squirming rat from several angles.

"It gives me great pleasure to present to the magical public the proof that the ward was successfully cast," Cornelius declared pompously. He ignored the raised eyebrows. Just what he was expecting when several powerful witches and wizards had cast that ward was anyone's guess. "This is a new paradigm for security measures that will be standard for important institutions like St. Mungo's and the Ministry!"

He spoke some more about how this miscreant, no doubt a minor stealer of knowledge, or a prankster was going to enjoy the auspices of Azkaban. Being a politician, and not one of the same category of people as those reading The Omen Reader, he was very much in love with his own voice, eschewing quick action and proof of the same for more self-aggrandisement.

Up in Gryffindor Tower, the quartet was gathered in a corner listening. Remus had been very considerate and had simply taught Harry to cast a spying charm, which was cast on Remus' coat.

"How can someone talk for so long?" asked Ron bewildered.

"Get used to it," Hermione retorted. "Harry here has ambitions of the same."

"No. Politics is for those who wish to wield power. The true currency is influence."

"See?"

"He doesn't speak so much, Hermione. He copies Dumbledore," Neville pointed out.

"The Headmaster is an agreeable role model," Harry amiably agreed.

Hermione took one look at him and imagined him old, bearded, in ghastly robes, half-moon glasses with eyes twinkling and was reduced to a fit of silent giggles. It ended long before Fudge's speech did.

"Is he trying to give a whole newspaper report verbally?" Hermione asked irritably after another two minutes.

By this time, everybody had come to the same level – teenagers bored by waffle.

"He could take over from Binns, honestly," Harry groused. "Someone put a silencing charm on him, damn it!"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," soothed Ron in his best Lockhart impression. "He is being seen doing something."

"Ah."

By this time, Neville got into the game. "Our... _esteemed_...Minister's prowess with mindless blathering is rather... _impressive,_ " he drawled, this time imitating Snape. They had a quiet laugh at that.

"I wish we could see his face when they show who the rat is," Hermione sighed.

At long last, Fudge stopped speaking. Moony seemed terribly bored and relieved, if his low, but rather impassioned, "Oh thank Merlin!" was any evidence.

One very interesting thing to note was that in his seven-minute dissertation, Fudge had made a point to take credit for everything that he had done since summer. Harry noticed it of course, but there was nothing to be gained by countering the man's claims. In a way, it was a very good form of protection. He didn't need anyone outside of the few who knew about it that he had made any suggestions. Till Sirius was free, he did not have a protector with considerable power on the House level. That was protection that Dumbledore could not give.

Dumbledore's position on the Wizengamot had actually tied his hands. He was technically, no better, truly, than the President in parliamentary democracies, with only slightly more executive powers, and not the same position as Head of State. He was also the Speaker of the Assembly so he had deciding votes.

In fact, much of his powers came from who he was more than what he was. Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of his age, the defeater of Grindelwald. It was the hand of aces that he held. Harry could not see how he could match that unless Voldemort, who had so far operated through Quirrel and the Diary, came out into the open and Harry somehow managed to overcome the vast difference in magical and life experience to defeat what must have been a wily operator.

It was another self-realisation. He had to push his abilities, his mind and his magic to the limits, while staying truly away from that which would lead him astray. He had to be better because he wanted to help people; because he wanted the society he was part of to be harmonious in peace and in progress. He had to be better for the Greater Good.

He abandoned the tangent a moment later when Dumbledore started speaking, but it resonated deep within.

"Now that our esteemed Minister has..."

"PETER!" howled Sirius as he ran at the translucent barrier that the rat was trapped in. "YOU KILLED LILY AND JAMES AND NOW YOU WANT TO KILL HARRY! I WILL NOT LET YOU!"

"It's Black!" cried many people in panic. Sirius was felled by a stunner from Dumbledore's wand. As Sirius collapsed, and as _Dumbledore_ had done it, nobody else bothered.

"Amelia," Dumbledore quietly ordered. "Please secure the animagus. These circumstances seem murky to me."

Fudge and the press had dutifully stood aside as this carefully constructed drama played out. How many years had the magical world been content to live under the shelter of Dumbledore's shadow? And for how many more years was it to continue? This was what Harry aspired to be.

"Dumbledore!" cried Fudge, once he was safely sure of Sirius being bound. "What is going on?"

"That is exactly what I intend to find out," the elder wizard gravely said. He remembered the message he had left with Fawkes. He revived Sirius and glared at him. "I would like an explanation, Black."

"That Rat is all the explanation you need, you crazy old man!"

People gasped as a clearly crazy convict was calling the venerated old wizard crazy.

"That is for us to decide. Why are you here? What do you want?"

"I am here because I need to protect my godson from him!" Sirius declared with a wild gesticulation at the trapped rat. He looked much like he did when he escaped. That was a charm cast on him to keep the ruse.

"Who is your godson?"

"Harry Potter!" answered Sirius with a grin.

There were appropriate cries of vehement denial from those gathered.

"Is it so? Then why did you betray them?" Dumbledore asked coldly.

"I never did. I never did. You know that," Sirius sang with a very well-performed imitation of Bellatrix's insane gleeful smile.

Everyone was now up in arms, but a raised hand by Dumbledore silenced them all. "I do not appreciate this unfounded accusation, Black."

"I said you _know,_ Headmaster. I never said you remember." He grinned with a full complement of blackened teeth. "Your colourful robes are less colourful than the language you use when angry."

A trickle of sweat made it down Dumbledore's face, before he clutched at his head and sank to his knees.

Amelia had her wand pointed at the now caged rat, so it was Kingsley who pointed his at Sirius. "What did you do, Black? What dark magic have you used?"

"None, great Auror," Sirius mocked, having too much fun with this acting stint. "It was just a password we had used in a plan to deceive Voldemort."

"You speak his name? You speak your master's name?"

"HE WAS NOT MY MASTER, YOU IDIOT! FORCE THE RAT TO HUMAN FORM, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!"

By then Dumbledore had recovered. "Do so, Kingsley. It seems we had the wrong man in Azkaban all along."

"Preposterous!" protested the blustering Fudge. His plans of using Sirius to favour Malfoy were crashing. "This cannot be!" It was to be he who would expose this anomaly. And now the chance was cruelly taken away.

"And yet it seems it is. Amelia, if you would please...?"

The stunned rat was duly forced into his human form.

"That is Peter Pettigrew!" shouted Rita Skeeter, the more famous reporter who had accompanied Maurice Clarke and the photographer, Bozo.

"Check his inside left arm!" cried Sirius. "He is the fucking traitor!"

Amelia did. "It's the Dark Mark!"

Skeeter could have screamed with rapture. It was an expose of epic proportions.

"Why did you never tell about this in the trial?" demanded the woman.

"What trial?"

Rita actually screamed in joy.

Harry had a sudden moment of panic. **_Sirius_** was now politically inconvenient, if Fudge was anything to go by. Someone needed to ensure Sirius' security till the trials. Apparently, Moony had the same doubts.

"What should be done about Mr. Black then? If, as he is undoubtedly the Head of Black, pending his obvious exoneration, he is eliminated by unscrupulous means..."

"Do not presume to tell me how to do my job, Professor," Amelia growled sharply. Then she softened. "Mr. Black will have the highest security possible, of course. Chief Warlock, under the Emergency Conventions Act, Section 14d of Trials and Evidences, would you please, on my request as the Director of the Department of Law Enforcement, schedule a fast-tracked emergency trial?"

"Indeed, Director Bones. Will one hour suffice?"

"Yes Chief Warlock."

* * *

By the end of the day, with the fast-tracked trial, Sirius actually was out of jail, properly. Since Dumbledore remembered the executions of the six Death Eaters, he spoke in favour of execution with immediate effect. Depriving Tom of Peter seemed sensible.

The story Peter had 'told' was a carefully constructed one. The plan all along was to hold Harry hostage in exchange for the freedom of the co-conspirators that had been previously executed. He had tried to find Potter, but had been unable to, so he had framed Black. He had lain in wait for Potter to come, but he had felt a presence within the castle that reminded him of his master. When Sirius broke out, he needed to get on with the plan and had therefore chosen to attack directly. Sirius would be kissed by a Dementor anyway, so there would be nobody who knew the truth. Then they would resurrect the Dark Lord.

It was enough to get the disgust of the light-sided part of the court, and compel Peter's former comrades to consign him to death. Anything else and it would become a political hot potato for them. Malfoy had abstained.

Sirius' freedom marked a pit stop, so to speak, in the race to secure the greatest influential positions in the magical world. It had upset far too many equations. The decision now left to make was whether to press the advantage or take a breather and make another assault on the structures of power.

* * *

"Why did you not even try to delay the trial?" Lucius asked coldly. He was now in a horrible situation. The very next day after his trial, Sirius had gone straight to Gringotts, and without much ado, had resuscitated his family vaults. Since Malfoy had only named himself regent of Black, which was the only thing he could do, and he was no longer required for that position, his big income had been cut off. Black had made no statement, but he had immediately been whisked away by Dumbledore, putting Black completely out of their sphere of action and influence.

"Don't you ask me, Lucius!" shouted Cornelius. "I did not know that Pettigrew of all people would turn up! And Bones used the very addendum/modification to the Act that your father had suggested back in 1981!"

Lucius wanted to rave and rant and shout, but the futility of it all. There was no point pointing out to Cornelius that with the ward and all, they had been played. He would have to start from a reset. He also knew that there was someone else involved in it all. Dumbledore was not the one to get involved in all this. And there was no way Potter could know; the media had been tightly controlled to ensure that not one word beyond what they wanted the world to know about Sirius Black would ever be known.

* * *

It seemed senseless to drag Sirius' freedom away any longer. The true games start now. The title suggests the traps everyone falls into.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Game is Afoot**

Thanks to all followers and favouriteers. Thanks for reviews to: **Elftastic** , **mmayank** , **Kairan1979** , **mwinter1** , **RRW** , **Swooping Evil** , **Love Faith Embers** , **alix33** , **Guest** , **Guest** , **Cool-Fanfiction-Lover** , **sunsethill** , **Navn Ukjent** , **Cassandra30** , **jbfritz, Red Phoenix Dragon, IveGotNoIdea, insane88, teedub, V. L. Crawford, Padfoot'smyMan, and Wolfy1000** for your reviews.

Harry Potter is not mine.

There is a general complaint about the Weasleys being relatives. I will say that it wasn't my idea originally, and I have read a few stories which use that. I have only fleshed that out a bit. That part comes in often when there is Dumbledore-bashing and no Weasley-bashing in stories. The way I see it, even though the two families are unlikely to be that closely related, the Potters were pure-bloods (considering James was one, so it stands to reason that so was his father) till Harry – light-sided, but still pure-bloods – they have every chance of having at least one common ancestor. I just brought the ancestor to recent times.

I intend to post about one chapter a week till the Year End, or about 6-7 chapters in this slot.

Also, do check out the other stories I have written/continued: **_Exodus_** and **_Prophetic Intervention._**

* * *

Harry was a bit unsure why he had been called up to the Headmaster's office on a Saturday, after the rather gruelling session of Quidditch practice that was making him feel like a massive pile of soreness. Why the bloody hell weren't there any blood lifts inside bloody Hogwarts?

As such, the tired, and as most teenagers are, stroppy boy, made his way to the Headmaster's office, only to stop in front of the stone guardian. He bloody well didn't know the password now, did he?

Thankfully, he heard some footsteps coming from the other side. It was Professor Lupin. That was interesting.

"The Headmaster thinks it would be wiser for me to be present, or at least Sirius to be there when he isn't getting the hang of the Wizengamot. It seems he has some advice to impart, and wants us to be scribes," he explained, before adding to the stone statue, "Marmalade Marbles."

"That really exists?" Harry asked Remus.

"What? Marmalade Marbles? Of course they do. They are bittersweet strawberry-sized hardened balls of orange marmalade that are soft on the inside. Nothing that even Moony would willingly eat, I should think."

"Someone should get him off of those sweets," Harry incredulously retorted, even as Lupin knocked on the door, which opened of its own accord.

"They are important for magicals, young man," Dumbledore disagreed, not even slightly abashed about eavesdropping on the conversation, "to eat lots of sweets. It helps with the energy."

Harry looked sheepish at being caught talking about the Headmaster's penchant for sweets, but didn't back down. "Well then, I hope nobody ever gave Voldemort any sweets. He seemed like an insane kid on a perpetual sugar rush, from what I gather. And you should still cut down on them, sir. Even I know that diabetes at your age would be horrible, not to mention the fact that it would be very bad for your teeth."

"Au contraire, my boy, I have had to increase my intake of high calorie foods, in particular sweets, since the new ward was erected, with me as a controller. I think I understand why many wards were dismantled or powered down by my predecessors. It was a slight discomfort that could have built over time, and which the sweets help me tide over."

"Oh." That seemed fair. They could only imagine how taxing the new wards were for the Headmaster, really, given his predilection for understatement in the most inopportune situations. "I didn't know that."

"I didn't suppose you did. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?" the Headmaster offered amiably, with twinkling eyes. "It seems only polite to offer them to anyone who comes."

"Thank you sir," the two visitors replied as each took one.

"Well, now that we have settled the rather solemn matter of our dietary choices, perhaps we can turn to the rather mundane matter which is why I asked you to come here," Dumbledore said as he stood up and walked to the window before turning around to the room and addressing the two. "This is regarding your newer attempts to...shall we say...broaden your horizons."

Harry looked at Dumbledore with a mixture of a questioning, doubting, troubled, slightly betrayed (since he thought this was Dumbledore asking him to desist) and crestfallen look.

"You needn't worry about me halting your initiative, Harry. Indeed I would be a poor teacher if I were to obstruct a student's attempts to spread his or her wings," he said with a slight smile as he gazed at Harry over his half-moon glasses. "I would implore you to remember what happened when you last met the Minister after the unlamented demise of Madam Umbridge's career."

Harry did remember. "You asked me not to underestimate her contingencies."

"Very good," Dumbledore agreed. It was the most important lesson Harry had to learn that day. His own discreet attempts at getting to the root of the matter had told him that she was unlikely to be a problem, since she had become a political and personal hot-potato for many around her – too many in fact, for her to be released or in any way helped, in particular due to the Dementor debacle. Often it is the one misplaced card that brings the castle crashing down. "And?" he questioned.

"You offered your guidance." Harry chose not to refer to his slight chastisement of Dumbledore, a chastisement which had borne results.

"Which is what I refer to, as of now," Dumbledore replied with a smile, as Harry and Remus both relaxed. "Tell me Harry, who, in your estimation, is the most dangerous person in anyone's vicinity?"

"A person who is against you and has nothing to lose?"

"Close, but no."

"A person who knows everything about you?"

"No."

"A person who knows everything about you and has your confidence?"

"A wise answer, but nonetheless, incorrect."

"A person who knows about you, has your confidence, and about whom you care a lot?"

"An even better answer, but, seeing as you are treading on a far tangent than the correct answer, though you have nonetheless arrived correctly at the worst pitfalls you could perceive, it falls to me to say that you have, in order, given me the answers to the positions 3, 5, 4, and 2 on the list of the most dangerous persons."

"Then I find myself at an impasse, sir."

"I believe you do. If this were a school subject, I would nevertheless award you five points each. The answer is not very obvious, because it is, in the best of cases, hit-and-miss. You tell me Remus. Who do you think is the most dangerous person in one's vicinity?"

Remus took a few moments before he answered in a low whisper, "A person like me, sir. A person who owes someone a lot, or everything. For some the debt could become a noose which they would want to tear free."

"While I disagree with you classing yourself into that category, because neither do I believe that you owe me anything, nor do I believe you to be anything less than one of the most upstanding people I have ever known and whom I would trust without second thought, you have arrived at the right answer."

Remus only looked away and nodded. He would forever be grateful to Dumbledore, the man who took a risk by letting a werewolf in, and had helped reach out to the members of the werewolf community who neither could afford education, nor assimilate back into normal life after mostly being abandoned by volunteering his services as a teacher in secret.

Unknown to even the rest of the Marauders, Remus had been put through Hogwarts on the back of the Headmaster's Discretionary Funds, a part of which had gone towards his treatment and convalescence each month, as well as the maintenance of the Shack and the Willow, which at the time had been fed a specified amount of an arboreal aging solution to hasten its growth. Remus' time at Hogwarts was shrouded in scrutiny and it had been Charlus Potter's personal intervention as a member of the board that had helped keep away prying eyes. Putting another werewolf through Hogwarts was not as easy as it sounded.

Dumbledore, on his part, cleared his throat a bit before resuming his lesson. "Now that you have the answer, how would you extrapolate?"

This was like chess. Every move led to a million possibilities while the game was still young. Harry frowned in contemplation. He knew Dumbledore would never give him the answer outright. He had to work it out and reach it on his own. Like a show reel, the events of the past months played in his mind. Who has power enough to treat him as a flimsy obstacle and still be protected and was indebted to him? The answer was so blindingly obvious that he almost laughed out loud.

"The Minister... His position becomes untenable if he does seem to support us more after being on the fence but leaning towards Malfoy. In fact, he comes across as foolish, you come across as a manipulative man using a child and I become the known-faced stupid pawn. And it is very much within his power to 'expose' me as a stooge."

"Excellent!" commended Dumbledore. "What should you then do?"

"At the very least, I should, fearing the consequences of my mistake regarding the conspiracy theory, own up to it, and thank him for his unwitting, but not unwelcome contribution towards helping free my innocent godfather. Incidentally, it should be, within the limits of propriety, fairly public."

"Yes. That would be full marks on the test, I should believe, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled. It was different, learning from Dumbledore.

"Now, this is something that I would never expect you to know. When exchanging meaningful contact with the Ministry, use simpler words, do not use words or phrases imported from another language and most assuredly not from the languages of the continent, or from the colonies. It has been, in my experience, an institutional bias. Do not, however, sound ingratiating. Keep that in mind."

"Thank you, sir."

"That will be all. You may go. Though, you may take another sherbet lemon."

Harry did take that. "There's a particular brand of pineapple candies that are widely available in the non-magical shops, Headmaster. Perhaps I should get you a box for you to see whether the variety suits your palate."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, my boy. I look forward to such an intriguingly delightful change."

Harry just nodded, threw a curious look towards Remus and politely left.

"Remus, I need your help to help Harry now."

"Of course Dumbledore," Remus instantly replied.

"I am going to ask you whether any Legillimency has ever been performed on you."

"Not that I know of, sir."

"Have you ever experienced anything that would say it is inadvisable to do so?"

"No sir. However, if I may say so, if you wish to do so, I would rather that we err on the side of caution and have someone to observe matters, please. If anything untoward does happen..."

"Yes. It would be rather silly to not use all precautions," he sighed. "You saw it Remus. Harry is lacking in experience, but not in aptitude or ability. To bolster him, he needs more than just that, though."

"You want him to be able to perform Occlumency."

"Yes; I want him to be able to control his emotions and his expressions, to be precise. They still give him away. I was lax till now, as I saw no initiative from him. Now that I do, I cannot hold back. So, in particular, I intended for you to learn it and then teach it. It is best to learn the art from the individual you would trust the most to delve into your mind."

"Then, if I may ask, why do you not teach him yourself?"

"The art, Remus, influences thought processes. I do not wish him to be me. Lately, I find the similarities disturbing."

"In what way?"

"I was eleven when I realised that my ability to shape the thoughts and perception of those around me would dictate my success. Harry has had this realisation now. Tell me, what would you make of Harry, the student, as a teacher of a magical subject?"

"I do not have anything to compare it to, but I think Harry does not just accept the lessons. He disassembles them, learns the concepts I teach and tries to find alternative solutions or turn it towards something new. I do not know whether it is true for all other subjects."

"It is. The other Professors have remarked time and again about his changed attitude which is reflected in his schoolwork, but more importantly, in his personal attempts to know more and work towards gaining knowledge, power and control, if his more recent efforts are an indication. It is a very odd day indeed when Severus becomes nervous about him, and yet I have lived to see such a day. And that is where my worries arise. I find him mirroring me. I made many mistakes in my youth Remus. I do not want him emulating those as well.

"Moreover, he has a different perspective than I do, which I want him to preserve. Learning Occlumency from me shall harm that. It would be detrimental to his progress were I to involve myself at such a mentally intimate level."

"Couldn't Sirius do that? He must have the discipline down pat if he could survive Azkaban with his animagus ability intact."

"He could. But is he ready to open up to Harry? You know that Harry has accepted you with your unfortunate affliction, and therefore your greatest fear, for him, is just like any other. You must realise that the same doesn't hold true for Sirius."

Remus frowned. "I cannot speak for him, sir. But I would suggest that you do not discount him as of yet."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "My only other option is not one that I feel very confident about, yet, it may still be the only one to harness. Severus..."

"Should not even be an option, Dumbledore. If you discount Sirius' ability to open up to Harry, his godson, what makes you think that Severus would do the same with James' son?"

"Perhaps with Lily's son...?"

"If that was possible, it would have been demonstrated through neutrality at the very least. As it stands I do not see either trusting the other enough for this."

"Indeed, indeed. Yet I do not know who else I should turn to. This matter shall, as Harry's extracurricular activities grow, gather more importance."

"Perhaps, if things can be delayed just long enough for Sirius and Harry to bond..."

"It must be within the coming months."

"I shall talk to him post haste. We will find a solution."

"We must."

"Why the urgency though, Dumbledore? Surely all promising students go through such phases?"

"It is urgent, Remus, because Harry's unexpected inroads with the Minister are what stand between an oncoming war when Voldemort as you know will be surely resurrected. My time will soon end, Remus, at least actively. I need to see Harry equipped, and soon."

* * *

The events of the 20th of January had put a large spanner into the works for Lucius Malfoy; not that he thought that way since the esteemed person of high standing had never really seen the 'lowly muggle contraption'. He had made several mistakes in anticipation of a prize that had been cruelly snatched from him by Black and all those people who he knew were helping him.

As much as he could not see Black approaching even Dumbledore, the signs of all the events of the day, and indeed several days leading to that day, being perfectly choreographed and that of the element of theatre were unmistakable.

Grudgingly, he admitted to himself, that if he had been the recipient of such help, he would have commended the orchestrator for a plan of true cunning. After all, the ward that caught the Rat was built with the Minister's, or rather Fudge's – no not even Fudge's, but his, Lucius Malfoy's – money. It was so easy for even the 'donor' to think of the politician's wealth that way, the same way that the public did.

And that was the crux of the problem. Lucius was a suave, astute businessman and wily operator in the Ministry channels. While his persona was carefully modulated everywhere to make him seem like the upstanding citizen he was considered to be, he was, in truth someone who lusted for power. And he didn't want the sort of trappings that came with the Ministerial position. So he paid for his influence and pushed through such laws and budgets while making it seem that it was all the Minister's idea, that the fallout was always a windfall for him. The Minister was an investment – the best that money could buy.

And yet for all his abilities, Lucius suffered from the one flaw that seemed to afflict the entire magical subspecies of humans – he was unable to deal with change well. They were as close to being human inductors as was possible with the way they opposed sudden changes in the current.

Lucius was waiting for Fudge in his office, just after he witnessed his greatest desire crumble to pieces. Sitting there, having to abstain to ensure that he was seen neither supporting Black the blood-traitor, nor harming Black the poor victim of injustice who so happened to be the true Heir and Head of the House he so coveted was one of the most difficult things he'd ever had to do. The next thing that he did, unloading on Fudge, was very easy, and, as most of the very easy things are, it was very stupid as well.

Fudge initially was in a similar situation to what Lucius found himself in. While Lucius was never in the news, his now wobbly pawn, the Minister, always was. And he was always kept on a wildly swinging beam balanced on a thin rod.

If the Minister was panned by everyone for bringing Dementors near the children of Hogwarts, he was praised for openly speaking against his own decision in that regard and for taking a decisive action against the Death Eaters by executing Bellatrix, Rudolphus, Rabastan, Barty Jr., Rookwood and Dolohov.

If he was pressurised by calls for investigations of his hidden wealth since the donations to Hogwarts, it was offset by Dumbledore's statement in the media which was truly backhanded praise when he was asked by the reporter about the top-level decisions that the Ministry was taking, and why the Minister was getting personally involved.

 _"_ _The newest Great Patron of Hogwarts, our esteemed Minister of Magic, had helped us out at the first request for the same. He helped us out monetarily if not by magic, and it helped solve the problems in setting up the wards that magic couldn't solve._

 _"_ _Minister Fudge has proved why he has our trust. He owned up to bad decisions and has corrected them. He stood up to be counted when Hogwarts needed help protecting her students. He has been proactive in his dealing since the turn of the year, and it is my belief that he has now the belief in himself that is required in a Minister, and the wisdom to choose and follow good advice. It is indeed the same belief that we had in him, and which saw him elected. He has developed his own hands-on style, I believe it is called, and nobody can deny that it is working wonders._

 _"_ _It has led to the elimination of several dangers in recent times, and has helped correct a massive failure of the Wizengamot, a failure that I might confess I was party to, and one that he helped an innocent man gain his freedom. This is how ideally the government should function. We do not expect anyone to be perfect and colleagues are bound to correct and disagree with each other from time to time as he corrected a judicial disaster that he inherited. Yes, the Minister has shown his intentions and his true heart. I for one, intend to support and advice him for what it is worth, to the best of my abilities, as has always been my intention and my designation."_

That the mistake which Dumbledore owned up to, in spite of technically being a mistake, as, whatever Sirius Black may have done to support the idea of him being the secret-keeper, he was still to be given a trial by law, was shrouded under the cloak of the misdirection and the charm that Black and the Potters had cast as was widely reported. As such, public sympathies lay with the old man.

The reporter had gone on to ask what Dumbledore thought Fudge was making mistakes with. The answer was textbook Dumbledore. He had replied "everything" in a way that would make Slytherin himself bow to the man's superior word-work.

 _"_ _I am, first and foremost, a teacher. And as respected a Minister Cornelius will be, I will always expect better from him than he himself does. It is the fallacy of being a teacher. We see more to our students than they themselves can. Whatever Cornelius does, I will always exhort him to improve, to strengthen. I have high hopes for our country under his stewardship."_

 _"_ _And Professor Dumbledore, what would you say about the accusations against the Minister regarding corruption?"_

 _"_ _I cannot comment on that. However, I can subscribe to one explanation. The Fudge family is not new, and I cannot see why they wouldn't save over the years. The Minister must be accountable. By the same token, he cannot be considered guilty on the basis of conjecture."_

And on that backdrop, Lucius could see how his star was falling with Fudge, or was at least dimming. The first reaction of the man who was unable to deal with change was to unload his panic upon Fudge. Fudge had already been grumbling about his support of the Dementor scheme. It had after all been Fudge who had to step back. And then this insistence on Dumbledore's part to give a positive spin to Fudge's part in the fiasco to make him come out smelling of roses was particularly vexing. Lucius Malfoy had not invested so much into making Cornelius Fudge such a high-ranking asset only for Dumbledore to come along and reap the benefits.

Fudge was a person who thrived on public sentiment. And in the whole series of events, it had been the other side that had developed and guided the sentiment, repositioning the whole board.

It was time to remind everyone that Lucius Malfoy was not ever to be discounted from the game. And it was time to remind Fudge who his true Patron was. Patrons, after all, can change their minds, and Ministers could be moved around with consummate ease, given the right incentive to those who were still in power.

He paced around for a bit as he struggled to gulp down his sip of whiskey and thought more about the matter. Moving Ministers around was not very easy. He had calmed down with the burning sip though, and saw the flaw in his rage-fuelled idea. No. Fudge was, even without Lucius' help, entrenched into the system, and knew exactly who would stand for and against him. The man's flaw was that he was counting on Lucius.

Also, while becoming the Patron of another was one, way, it was also expensive, and he had just reminded himself that the Black Wealth was no longer at his disposal. There were obvious people who would stand up to Fudge, or at least, there had been before May. Crouch could have been blackmailed. Umbridge was one woman he would not support. He had almost lost his son due to her madness, and even if he would have supported her ideas and attempts at pulling down Dumbledore and his cronies indirectly, he would never directly support her.

The other colleagues from the time under the Dark Lord, a time that Lucius now considered as stupidity, (even though he had accepted the inevitability of his resurrection and was preparing for it), considering the fact that they had done more in peace and profit to further the pureblood supremacy agenda than the Dark Lord did, were in the same boat as he did. All the same, they were required to be loyal on the pain of death.

None of those that were marked would willingly hold a position of power which would bring them under scrutiny.

And there weren't many whose immediate familial affiliations weren't known and who weren't marked, who could be used as a front without the influence of their group becoming obvious. They had found it best to operate in the shadows and there was no reason to give up the advantage.

There was a need to keep Cornelius around – at least until they found a new front. He would have to make a great show of shelving his pride.

He had to change targets. Perhaps causing trouble for Black would keep Cornelius on the straight and narrow, and away from being swayed by any ludicrous ideas.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge was a surprised Minister. His plans to 'rescue' Sirius Black had blown up spectacularly. And he hadn't even received a scratch! This was one case where he had miscalculated as to whom exactly he should have appeased. With Lucius and Dumbledore both, it was a case of "I scratch your back and you scratch mine". He had bet on Lucius and lost.

Normally, he would have expected to face investigations into the matter, but neither Black nor Dumbledore had pursued it yet. In fact, the latter, who at the moment, was the only one making any statement in the media, had ensured that he was treated as the decisive face in the Ministry. His actions since Harry (yes, no longer the Potter boy) had started to provide him with ammunition were now treated as the result of his three years of work since he assumed the top-post in 1990. So instead of being treated with veiled suspicion by many even within the ministry, he was now seen as someone who kept things quiet while he worked towards ensuring justice. And in all that, he had not uttered a word for or against anyone.

This was his favourite type of scenario.

And then there was Lucius. Both of them knew why the man was angry, and to some extent, Fudge shared that. But Lucius had blamed him. It rankled, particularly given the fact that Cornelius had been on Lucius' side there.

He saw how it was now. Lucius saw him as beholden to him due to the money he had pumped into the campaigns. Dumbledore on the other hand had turned him, with just a few words, into a man of action. There was no doubt what would garner him continued support. Harry's words about the true magical public – the one that consisted of a majority of muggleborns and half-bloods –meant more in retrospect. They read the papers and saw that as the truth, though with a pinch of salt. And Dumbledore's words and Harry's solutions were helping him build a people-friendly image.

This meant he had to ensure that Dumbledore was partially absolved of the blame. Favours had to go both ways. So there were veiled references to Barty Crouch from his side as well, to ensure that people started believing it was all the dead man's plot to hide his Death Eater son. And then there was Harry's informal meeting while he waited for Sirius to join him after the latter's appointment. Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour and several other bigwigs were in attendance where Harry had tendered his apology for inadvertently misleading him with the conspiracy theory while at the same time, thanking him profusely for giving back his family.

Cornelius wasn't sure that the apology was a good thing, since it took the sheen off his reflected glory, and told everyone who the real credit was owed to, even if by accident, but Sirius told him that the boy was worried that he had caused people to be killed. In retrospect his consoling words to the worried boy had actually embellished his image.

So now, as he saw the shift in power, he realised that he had to switch allegiance. He wouldn't totally wash his hands of Lucius, but Lucius would obviously no longer have the backing of House Black, considering the fact that he had been summarily and without prior intimation, removed from his post as the Regent. It was message enough for those who heard and saw.

This should have been easy to manage – except that it wasn't.

For one, he was beholden to Lucius. And now everyone knew he was beholden to Harry, though apparently to everyone's mind, the mistake had balanced the scales. Yet, he knew and those like Dumbledore knew who exactly had gotten to the unknown escapee. Now that Sirius Black was out, he had to have coloured the boy's perception against the Malfoys. There was obviously no love lost there. So it was necessarily one or the other.

For another, it was a matter of Cornelius' personal beliefs on the matter that made the choice difficult. For all that he hated Voldemort, he did not truly like muggleborns beyond considering them as something that just existed and could not be done away with. So the more restrictive of Lucius' policies which were forwarded through the Wizengamot had his tacit support. Harry, with his maternal heritage would never support that. Yet, as had been pointed to him, it was where his electorate lay.

It was a quandary that he found himself in. Cornelius wished that the decision were taken for, and from, him soon. He really should have been careful about what he wished for.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Dissonance and The Plots**

I thank all you favouriteers, followers and readers. This story has crossed **_60000_** readers, surpassing **_Prophetic Intervention_** , after the previous chapter, at the time of writing. And thank you to the reviewers as usual: **alix33** , **Grime'SS** , **mwinter1** , **frankieu** , **I Am a Lousy Writer** , **Guest, RRW, Navn Ukjent, mooneysfate, Penny is wise, josht1987, Ruth Hammond, and Darksnider05.**

Also, why is Dumbledore actually being proactive? His profession and his secondary career as one of the Most Powerful people in England clashed, initially, before Harry's activities brought him out of his slumber. This Dumbledore is modelled half on canon and half on Harmonious' fabled guide during his time as an engineering student, a woman who apparently walked two steps for every one that her students did.

There will be disagreements and each of the people having their own plans.

This is a bridge to the major confrontation that shall now brew.

* * *

Just because he wanted the decision to be made for him did not mean that Cornelius Fudge would not accept being lorded over and choose to play a waiting game. He, being in power, did understand some of the intricacies. Then again as the son of a pureblood family, he did know well enough that while making deals, places were of great importance. Every dog was the king of its own territory. And somehow, the Ministry was turning into Cornelius' territory, in spite of the fact that in a way it should have always been.

So, when Lucius Malfoy asked for an audience, Cornelius very cordially invited him for tea in his office, instead of accepting the invitation to visit him at the _Golden Prey,_ one of magical Britain's premier restaurants, of which Lucius was a regular patron and in which he was probably also a stakeholder.

This was essentially an initial overture towards eventually choosing a side, and both men knew that, and Cornelius was nothing if not determined for the choice to be on his terms, no matter which side he chose. The courtesy extended was essentially because of their previous good relations, which were nominally still preserved. A lot would hinge on the coming meeting. For the first time in years, Cornelius would be facing his benefactor on an equal footing.

"Good evening, Cornelius," Lucius silkily intoned as he strode into the room in an uncharacteristically, and remarkably, less aristocratic manner than he usually employed, before removing his gloves and offering his hand to shake. He stood rigidly a foot from the nearest chair.

"Lucius," Cornelius replied with a spirited attempt at a pleasant smile which did not come off as a simpering one only because of the stark facial dissimilarity between the man and his former Undersecretary. "Please, please do have a seat. You have never stood to such formality before."

And indeed the statement with ambiguous intent was nevertheless factually true. Lucius was not sure whether Cornelius had aimed it as a barb to subtly remind the man of the fact that his previous act of disrespect wasn't forgotten and a ledger of previous such incidents was always being updated in Cornelius' mind, or as just a friendly overture, given that the Minister was prone to thinking of Lucius as a friend. He chose to only nod stiffly and without comment before taking the seat. If Cornelius had a ledger, then so did Lucius. And this ignominy of having to eat humble pie and apologise to his puppet was burnt into it with fiery letters. It would cost Fudge eventually, and Lucius would ensure that. Among his many flaws that Lucius considered to be assets, pride was among the top five at the very least.

"What can I do for you today, Lucius?"

"I beg merely for your audience today, Cornelius, nothing more, nothing less."

Cornelius simply nodded with a small smile that seemed pleasant but in truth was anything but playing on his face. He was actually trying to not sigh internally. _Another new restrictive plan against muggleborns,_ he thought, wondering whether the idea was a pastime of his benefactor's when he wasn't plotting to employ all available means to prove his superiority. It wasn't that he didn't agree, but there were times when having caviar for every day of one's life was utterly boring and the crunch of fish and chips would become a welcome change.

"Cornelius, you have known me for quite some time. As with my father you know that I detest failure in every way it is possible to detest it."

"Indeed. Many have commented upon the similarity, just as many have commented upon your father being a sore loser. It was one of his many traits that made him as successful as he was, and therefore certainly not a negative one."

"That he was. However, and here, even if you don't agree, I must say that this trait which enabled him for success did make him prone to venting upon those close to him in friendship or alliance. It is unfortunately another trait that I seem to have inherited.

"I have been reflecting upon my actions and my harsh behaviour and words during our last meeting. It was, in the most honest, and believe me, apologetic terms that I can muster, stupid. I should have realised that we had been outplayed, and taken it into stride instead of holding you solely responsible. I was, simply put, wrong. Please accept my apologies."

In other words, Lucius did hold Cornelius responsible. The collective ownership of the failure as spelled out by the pronouns was also not missed. That said though, the apology was welcome and it brought Cornelius' guard slightly down for but a moment before an uncomfortable thought arrested the pleased expression on his face. It was only for a split instant, but it showed on the Minister's face, telling his visitor that Malfoy once more had the Minister in the bag.

It was however, still a bit uncomfortable for Cornelius. Obviously, since it came so close on the heels of Harry's apology, he knew there were other people close to Lucius in his office. It was uncomfortable to note that he had people around him planted by someone he considered a friend; people who could topple him if the friend had enough of their friendship.

It was however, not opportune enough for Lucius to unveil and, as usual, force his newest plan down Cornelius, in the hope that his generous donations would ensure Ministerial Policy Support and ease it down the Minister's throat.

But he would get there. And, he would get there within the week. He was Lucius Malfoy, after all. He was the one man in magical Britain who had his finger on its pulse. _Or one of two,_ he thought as doubt crept into his mind, a doubt which he did not allow to adorn his face.

And it was the reason why he needed things done within an accelerated time frame. He had others to visit that day, others with whom he would lay the groundwork for his plans. And by Salazar would he do it. He had tasted defeat once, but Lucius excelled in making others lick their own wounds. They had drawn first blood. He would slaughter these unknown 'them'.

After all there was only power.

* * *

Sirius had never thought that collecting and compiling information was such serious work. There were so many things to be vigilant about. There were so many hoops one had to jump through. There were so many questions one had to ask. And that was without mentioning the fact about the many boxes of vagueness and connecting the abstract that had to be connected. And if that wasn't enough, the information had to be properly structured to ensure that it could be easily referenced as and when required.

Thankfully, for making this kind of a dossier, for want of a better term, they now had a basic template. Harry's initial attempts were amateurishly laudable, but the need for better organisation was glaringly obvious. It was another thing that Dumbledore had pointed out. So, for the first time, the Headmaster had set his young pupil an unofficial task.

Harry would randomly be struck by a few bolts of inspiration in the form of questions which he would try to get the answers to. He was required to write them all down, check for redundancies, and prepare a questionnaire that would cater to at least seventy five percent of all required information, **_directly._** The rest he had to ask enough to get just enough information to be able to weed out what was necessary. And he had a question limit of eighteen questions which was two less than the Wizengamot Public Office's limit of twenty and seven less than the limit available to members (with practically no information restriction officially), twenty five.

Then Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus sat together and helped the boy refine the questions, after they were approved by the Headmaster as being sufficiently exhaustive. The teacher-taskmaster in Dumbledore was spurred back to activity by the active interest of his student. And unknown to the other three, what Harry was doing was – if he was successful – incredibly important for when Voldemort would return that it eased some of the man's worries. Harry had started on the path, and now it was up to him to be the guide.

* * *

It was two weeks after that first Saturday of February as they hurtled towards spring that Sirius came through with the answers to the questions. Dumbledore had sanctioned the replies in record time and could have given directly through his powers of office as the Chief Warlock. But it wouldn't help Harry learn nor would it have familiarised Sirius with what he was supposed to do as the Head of Black in the Wizengamot. There really wasn't enough time to hold their hand and teach them to walk. They had to be thrown into the deep end of the pool.

"This is very interesting," commented Remus as he read through the dossier. They were all written on paper and the pages were spirally-bound into colour-coded booklets. "It is very interesting to see the dynamics of that alliance. These are the people who have had a hand in each of the major legislations that have been passed since 1981."

And indeed they were.

The group consisting of Demetrius Nott, Grant Gibbon, Gareth Selwyn, Sol Jugson, Lucius Malfoy, Marian Mulciber, Corban Yaxley and Hugo Parkinson were considered the leaders of the pureblood extremist faction which at the time ruled magical Britain through the shadows and under the white garb of lawmaking. Of these eight, a veritable _In_ justice League of its own, Lucius Malfoy, Hugo Parkinson and Corban Yaxley had no place in the august body that was the Wizengamot. However, each had something that they brought to the table, in terms of contacts, money, ruthlessness, utter cleverness, academia, blackmail material, knowledge of the dark arts, even cruelty and such, making the group nigh on unbeatable.

It made them practically symbiotically dependent on each other in their quest to protect their way of life.

And then there was the fact that they were so defiantly unified in their approach to the Wizengamot, that it was impossible to find any chink in their armour.

"What is causing you to smile?" Sirius asked suspiciously. He couldn't for the life of him understand what there was to smile about in this frustrating document that he had ended up compiling that told them that the group was seemingly insurmountably strong.

"I wondered, actually," Harry said after shaking his head at the book. "I did think that getting Umbridge was too easy and then so was your freedom. Crouch was nailed by his own deeds. I kept thinking that the luck which led to me finding what I did find till now had to run out eventually."

"That smile was more than that," Sirius accused.

"I don't understand what you are saying."

Sirius looked torn for a moment between wanting to demand an answer, and obeying Dumbledore's immediate headshake, as well as the obvious inference from his godson's tone that suggested that there was nothing he tried would yield an answer as Harry himself wasn't sure about it at the moment. So he finally settled for, "Just promise me that you will not do anything rash and keep me in the bloody loop when you are sure."

"I promise, Sirius. If there is any light to be seen in this deep mine, I obviously will tell you. Who else would I tell first?"

Both missed Remus and Dumbledore smiling, pleased, at that pronouncement.

"Coming back to the dossier, Harry, what did you read into it?"

"I didn't read anything important. We know that they work together and that, curiously, even with the alliance strictures, there has never, ever been a single dissent against the majority vote by any of the five Wizengamot or abstention like the time Malfoy had to do with the Black vote at Sirius' trial."

"And what about the legislations themselves?" asked Dumbledore.

"I don't know enough," Harry freely admitted. "Assuming the best, all of the legislations emanate from a bigoted mindset or selfish reasons, each will have clauses upon clauses and I am not deluded enough to think that it would be easy, if at all to find a way around them."

"No, I don't think you would," agreed Remus. "We would have had words if you'd thought of that. I doubt either James or Lily would want you to throw away what seems to be your newfound inspiration towards better academic performance. I would have also thought you were being stupid and talking of things you couldn't follow up on."

Harry tried not to feel mulish about that.

"So what do you think can be done?" Sirius asked, doggedly pursuing his self-assigned task of drawing out the answers.

"We have to find more information about them," Harry replied evasively.

"How and what can we ask now? Dumbledore agreed that these were the most exhaustive questions that would address all matters."

"Sirius, I am just a teenager. Just because I was lucky enough to find some discrepancies before, doesn't mean that I can actually do such things regularly on demand," Harry chid with a touch of condescension. Then he added, "Moreover, we haven't seen anything **_now_**. I am sure something may now be found now that you are free and therefore have ample time. It was only fortuitous that we had a start. Don't you perhaps think that maybe what happened was just a flash in the pan and expecting too much from me?"

None of the others could exactly say much. Harry was distancing himself visibly from the whole matter for some reason. This could mean two things. He was having cold feet. Or, he had some sort of a plan cooking in his head which he wanted to protect from external interference, including them. Either way, there would be no coercing him to reveal it.

"I am actually pleased that you have decided to step back for a bit," Dumbledore finally said in faint agreement. "Forgive me for this, but I wanted you to learn the fact that sometimes visibly doing everything is not the right thing to do. I may have set you up for failure here."

"What do you mean?" demanded Remus slightly harshly.

"What I mean to say is that at the moment, there are no matters of life and death as there were with Sirius' freedom. I intended for Harry to experience losses in controlled conditions. Better he learn how and what leads to losses than having to lose when actually facing the Wizengamot, even if through Sirius. After all, somehow, we have found ourselves in a situation where we are imparting experience to him. Positive experiences can teach only so much."

"But you set him up..."

"...to fail. Yes I did. Would you rather prefer that Sirius is trounced by them when eventually Harry does – and I do believe he will quite contrary to his fears of the time till now being down to plain luck and circumstances – bring something important up? Better that he keep losing now to me, under controlled situations, learning how he can be deceived, how he can be caught out, than to them. They shall not teach him. I intend to. This is just the start."

"Oh."

"There is something else, actually," Harry softly added. He really wasn't prepared to see his three adult role models having a go at each other. "Doing anything now is dangerous."

"What do you mean?"

"If we ever did get enough to bring them down in some way, and used the information now, we would risk pushing them into a corner. And let's face it. We have learnt that they are like the Hydra. If we bring one down, they will retaliate, and if Voldemort returns yet, it will make the person leading the retaliatory efforts further in his favour, giving each of them enough impetus to strike. And at the moment, the Minister is still very malleable."

"Yes. This is a good summation of another thing that I wanted you to understand. This is like chess Sirius. You have to let them play their moves. There is never a truly one-sided game."

Sirius nodded unhappily. He just wanted to be shot of Malfoy and he was looking at this as something that would just happen and he would just be the face but not be anything more than that. He was not yet at the stage where he was willing to deal with anything more than whatever he was directed to deal with and playing a waiting game was sure to drive him out of his mind.

It was a session of discord in most manners as it was obvious that neither Sirius nor Remus was especially happy with the Headmaster, and Harry seemed apathetic and uninterested, leading Dumbledore to cut it short. Sometimes, things just didn't come off right, in spite of starting off well.

* * *

"Harry, you said you needed something else. Please tell me. I will find and get it for you. Just tell me okay!" Sirius beseeched. "Let me tell you why. I want Malfoy out of the way. And I have, since your birth, and since being named your godfather, thought of you like a son, if it means anything to you, including naming you as my heir. But I would bet my life on him doing something untoward, ranging from bringing up legislations to shackle me to outright killing either of us, and I really don't want that. And I still can't do this by myself because, let's face it, I detest thinking this way and I ran away from it. And all this isn't easy for me to suddenly be able to do."

Harry was, of course, touched that Sirius had named him his heir, but that was a very flimsy materialistic motivation. More important was the fact that Sirius thought of him as his son. His motivation to bring down Malfoy was far more personal – he had taken the fall for Malfoy's murderous ways. He wouldn't let that rest before Malfoy was lower than dirt in the eyes of both his supporters and his enemies. Then again, Malfoy had wielded the Black votes in a way that made the task of giving the House a new face and underlining its true Head's views an uphill task. For both of them, he was willing to make life hell for Malfoy, all the while being willing to be seen shaking his hand.

And yet, he couldn't reveal much to either of his two surviving 'uncles'. He still didn't know how much he could trust these two with where the Headmaster was concerned, though, and he knew that the old man would never go for this way. Indeed, it was his first intended deviation from Dumbledore's passive methods. Yet, he had to take a chance, someday.

"Sirius, I am very touched that you think of me as a son..."

"Of course I do!"

"So, if I asked you, would you keep some things from Dumbledore? Would either of you do that?"

Sirius considered it for a moment. "I cannot do that without good reason," he honestly answered. "Dumbledore is the person on whom most of the responsibilities lie, and I believe that to protect you as I must, I will have to at least keep him in the loop. I do not believe myself strong enough or capable enough at the moment, and I would rather have Dumbledore as a crutch than not be cautious enough."

"Even if it leads to him obstructing us?" asked Harry.

"Yes."

Sirius, Harry decided was being as honest as he could possibly be. That was something to appreciate. So he proposed a compromise. "Can you keep things a secret from him until there is a fully fleshed-out solution?"

"That...yes," Sirius grudgingly conceded after a moment. "Look Harry, maybe a year or two down the road, I will probably have enough of my brains straight to think straight and judge the merits of what you want to say or do. At the moment, I am outsourcing my thinking."

"Alright, that's alright. I understand."

"So, do you have something that isn't fleshed out at the moment?"

"I do, actually," Harry admitted after surveying Sirius closely. He brought out his tied parchment pieces. "This information, when taken in conjunction with the answers to the questions I asked the Wizengamot, makes more sense. These are the criminal procedure records of all trials of Death Eaters, as well as family trees of each of the Death Eaters."

"Why would you want to find out how they got off the hook?"

"Why not?" countered Harry. "You saw who the inner circle comprises of. What I asked for told me who the platoons of the inner circle comprise of. And it gave me a place to start."

"But those questions weren't part of..."

"Obviously not," Harry replied. "I couldn't see how understanding their politics would help in bringing them down. I don't want them beaten like Dumbledore does, I want them destroyed. They were accomplices of the man who murdered my parents!"

Sirius looked at him wide-eyed. "Really?" He had not accounted for revenge being a minor but not infinitesimally minute consideration.

"Obviously yes! So look at it that way. All passed judgements are put into the public domain after five years for public access, which is the time period for the four successive appeals allowed, each with a period of at least six months between the last judgement and the next appeal. The last judgement was passed in 1987. Now we know who voted and in what way, who saved whom, who sacrificed whom, and who was saved later by the appellate process."

"Let me see what you've got," Sirius conceded as he sat beside Harry on a bench in the courtyard.

Having learnt from Dumbledore's verbal lesson, he had separated his new findings from the other things he had jotted down. Sirius was invested in Dumbledore's policies. Harry didn't care about politics as much as ensuring that the eight, undoubtedly criminals, were brought down, or at least completely neutralised. It was why it was important to find the lines which would be the beginnings of fissures between them.

For that, while knowing about what they were trying to do to benefit their businesses was important, it was even more important to decipher their organisational structure. Those free were their foot soldiers in their more shady deals and also their henchmen. Crucially, knowing as they did that the Dark Lord would not be gone for long, they were also involved in a fierce competition to prove their worth as being better than all the others. After all, the bounty for the winner was a place by the Dark Lord's side, albeit lower, obviously, and more importantly, protection for their House from the Dark Lord's wrath. It was likely to be competition among the eight to find who came out with his family and underlings intact.

The public release gave a list, as Harry had said. It also told of possible alliances. Goyle and Crabbe were both the sons-in-law of Gibbon. They were released when Malfoy testified that they were at marked at the same meeting where he had been, also held under the Imperius, just moments before he himself was. Three months later, Malfoy had taken up the position of Regent of the House of Black, and the two hulks were his henchmen. Essentially there had been a trade of sorts.

In this position, it was not inconceivable to think that there might be an attempt to eliminate opposition. And they really had not discriminated by age or by blood while killing, had the Death Eaters.

Of the eight, five had children in Hogwarts. Sol Jugson's daughter was to attempt her OWLs later that year. Gibbon's grandson Victor Gibbon was in the fourth year as were two more of his grandsons the younger Crabbe and Goyle, who along with Nott's and Malfoy's son and Parkinson's daughter were all in the same year as Harry. Chrysanthemum Rosier, Jugson's niece, was now in the second year, and a firstie the year before.

"Are you trying to suggest...?"

"I am suggesting nothing," Harry replied with a tone of finality. "This is what I have found. I haven't thought of what I want to do with this, I don't know what to do with this. All I know is that this is important, just like the facts that there was nothing about how you pled in court or that Crouch Jr. died suspiciously fast in Azkaban were. It is a hunch, nothing more. What the supposed failure has told me is that their side is very strongly unified – suspiciously so, almost as if they are one entity. Who knows how many cracks they have papered over?"

Sirius just accepted it. He made his own decision as he took his leave. Harry needed his support, and for that, he had to step up his game faster than he could on his own. He had failed his godson before. He wouldn't again, now.

* * *

As it was, like all politicians around the world playing the game, and detested by those who always started with better intentions – people who were more often than not quickly lost to the inherent murkiness themselves – Malfoy was working along similar lines to prove Sirius' fears right.

"Are you going to build it up to it, though?" Gibbon asked.

"Oh, I promise you I am. I have got a reporter at the Prophet on my payroll. A little excessive respect for Black, and her words twisting just enough to ensure that he starts fitting the bill in the minds of everyone around him, but not enough to make a fool of all those who voted for his freedom, and we will be able to successfully keep Potter and Black from being associated legally or publically. It will be down to a matter of chance, but Black is unlikely to catch the matters in time."

"And if whoever is helping him does catch up on it?"

"Then we shall know, shan't we? I think it might be Longbottom. There was a trade there, Gibbon – Black's freedom for the Lestranges and Crouch. And since they went for the overkill, they managed to bring in those that wanted a measure of revenge against Dolohov and Rookwood."

"What do you hope to achieve?"

"At the very least, it should force Black to back off from Lestranges' vault. At the very best, the Ministry will be forced to avoid giving Black the custody of Potter and keeping them apart legally. You know as well as I, that as Potter's closest living magical relative, the Ministry will be obligated to hand over the custody of Potter to Black, should he request it."

"On a false premise?" asked Nott sceptically.

"It is all about perception and how fast Black moves against the perception, my friends. He won't pay attention to the papers if we blindside him with the legislation. Even if the legislation fails, then Black still will have dedicated more time towards putting it down, instead of correcting the Prophet, thereby making the Ministry seem foolish about releasing a murderer as he will become in the eyes of the people again, curbing Cornelius' newfound independent streak. It will be necessary to keep up an offensive onslaught of the articles. With that, if Black still takes over the Lestrange vaults, it will be a massive publicity faux pas for him."

"Essentially, you intend to give him too many fires to douse and make him prioritise, and in whichever way possible, marginalise him from the scene for the time being, delaying him from actually taking control of things."

"Yes."

"I would suggest that the reasons be very vague and broad. The more restrictive the nature of the clauses in this legislation, the wider is the path to circumvent the clauses," reasoned Selwyn. "It should be a failsafe. Should there be an attempt to circumvent this legislation – assuming we manage to get it to pass to start with – they should tread upon their own feet while doing so. And it could further be worded to ensure that it needn't necessarily be a false premise."

"And how would you word it then?"

"That shall depend on the remuneration for my services, would it not, Malfoy?"

There was a long silence, before Jugson said, "I propose an eight-way share of the Lestranges' vault if we succeed in keeping Black's paws of the Lestrange wealth. And we get to choose what we keep. Incrementally, if the legislation is passed, then Selwyn gets two and a half percent from each of us, and as Malfoy stands to gain the most, he pays twice of that."

"Agreed," Lucius responded. He would just rescue the Dark Lord's gift before the others could be invited. After the debacle with the diary, it was the most important thing he wanted to rescue from the Lestrange vaults. It was his insurance policy, and while he had lost his most important offerings to the Dark Lord, as the Lestranges had been initiated by his father, assuming the guardianship of the Dark Lord's gift fearing that Black would get to the vault would go a long way towards keeping the Dark Lord's ire to a minimum. The best thing was that the others wouldn't know. It was, after all, technically not the Lestranges' possession.

He really liked it when things moved according to his plans.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Team and the Targets**

As usual, thank you to all readers, followers and favouriteers, and the following reviewers: **Nanettez** , **mwinter1** , **Gime'SS** , **Son of Whitebeard** , **sunsethill,** **city bookworm** , **Blinded in a bolthole** , **milamber83** , **Charlie0925** , **Cool Fanfiction Lover** , **Guest (a guest reviewer), WhiteEagle1985, Harriverse, RebeccaRoy, sexy Seren, ObsessedWithHPFanFic** and of course, **alix33** , who patiently corrects my many mistakes. I remain indebted to **alix33** as these stories wouldn't be half as readable as they are without her meticulous proofreading.

I would also like to say this: there won't be inheritances, even the Black one, beyond the fact that Malfoy and Co. will be actively deprived of it all. Harry is no Founders' Heir, no Lord and the Peverell name is long dead.

The Basilisk as a WMD is from a story by **_WhiteSquirrel – Petrifaction Proliferation_**.

This chapter tortured me. I must have written over thirty thousand words, each telling a different story, but turning away from the plot before I came to this, and I am still not satisfied with Harry's first conversions.

* * *

Breakfast was one of the best times to simply observe people. The ebb and flow of people as they came in, some bedraggled, some smart, some tensed, some laughing, some alone, some in groups, some tired, some fresh, some pensieve, some yet to accept the fact that the sun was up, some reading, and some even painfully bow-legged and yet, happily smiling.

If indeed one was prepared to sit through breakfast, it was one of the best times to know who had fought, for unlike the age-old adage for married people, rarely did people forget their quarrels so quickly. It was easy to understand the interactions between people and extrapolate. And it was easy, to understand the dynamics of some groups that were together only out of habit, necessity, convenience, shared belief or all those things.

"What is so interesting in Greengrass?" Hermione demanded, stiffly and slightly huffily.

"Or Davis?" added Ron.

"I don't think Harry is glancing at the two girls, really..." Neville temporised.

"No I am not. It's the specific individuals, really," answered Harry, burying his head in his book. "Don't you all look together, but observe the people I am pointing out. You know Nott; Theodore, the one sitting opposite Malfoy."

"Yes, his crony who has some brains..." Ron scoffed, obviously comparing the boy to Crabbe and Goyle.

"No. If you think we and Malfoy have a tenuous relationship, we share a bond of jovial camaraderie compared to what Nott and he do."

"Please translate," Ron beseeched their closest female friend.

"Nott hates Malfoy more than we do," Hermione answered automatically. Then she blinked as she realised what she had just spoken and processed and asked Harry, "Really?"

"He isn't the only one, and in their little band of snobs, the feeling is quite mutual for almost all of them; except of course for those who have realised that girls are not...well...boys."

That got a few snorts, and Ron and Neville gawked at the aforementioned girls with renewed interest.

"Are you drooling Ron, looking at Slytherin girls?" the boy's cousin teased.

"What? No! How'd you even think that?" Ron hissed, his indignation at being caught colouring his face a dull red. "You were the one looking at them!" he taunted further typically, to turn it back on Harry.

"Yes. I was. I am sure those boys are soon going to start fighting over those girls. It will be fun to watch, or, alternatively, fuel the fires."

"Fuel the fires," parroted Hermione drily. "What could you possibly gain from that?"

"It would be fun!" Harry instantly replied. Then he took a sip of orange juice and beckoned them all closer. "It is also something that you told me to do, Hermione."

"I did? What? When did I?"

"Do you remember wondering out aloud how much of an inconvenience for Malfoy it would be, if other people found out how he had endangered their children?"

"You could just say that he put a Dark Device inside Hogwarts," Hermione snapped. Even she was peeved by the flowery evasiveness Harry employed these days.

"And cause problems for the Headmaster if someone asks how he didn't detect it? Or worse still, create a situation where I have to back off for lack of proof other than my word? No. I can claim Lucius Malfoy endangers children, in my considered opinion, without repercussions, because it is my opinion, and without proof, because I am of the opinion that his very existence is a danger to human life."

"We don't look like we care about the semantics, do we?" asked Hermione waspishly.

"What she means to say," Ron interrupted, slightly irritated himself, "is, bugger off. Talk to us normally. You know you are in too deep when Hermione scolds you for sounding like you've swallowed a salad of a dictionary and a very old book."

"What they said," echoed Neville.

Harry scowled at them. "Alright, be like that. Hermione, this was your idea, and I just want to conduct an experiment. If they hate each other enough, maybe we could get them all fighting against Malfoy or against each other openly. It'd be funny."

"Now that, I understood and liked as well," Neville retorted slowly, with a grin spreading over his face at the prospect. "How, though, will this be possible?"

"If you three help me, we can do it."

"We don't even talk to them!" protested Hermione. "I am just the mud–"

"STOP!" commanded Harry sharply. The tone was so curt and different to anything he had used with them ever before that all around them people stopped to look. He glared around till people looked away, before continued, in a harsh whisper that would only carry to his friends. "Never, ever, say that about yourself. When you do that, you insult one of my best friends, the memory of my mother, and your parents. You are Hermione Granger, the cleverest witch around. Do not let them define you!"

It was a long moment before Ron, of all people, timidly demanded what was wrong.

Harry took a deep breath before explaining things. "Look around us Ron. What do you see? Tell me who is in power. Relate it to what happened during our first two years here, both with our peers and our end-of-school escapades. Relate it to what happened to Sirius."

Hermione was the first, as expected to catch up to his train of thought. "You-Know-Who," she gasped. "This has something to do with you facing You-Know-Who."

"It is about Riddle, yes, but not about me," Harry gently corrected. "I know you love to read, Hermione, but your interests lie in academia, unlike mine. So allow me to explain what was gathered from a thorough perusal – perusal, not study – of socio-political commentaries. It has a lot to do with everything, and I am likely to tell you several things that I otherwise wouldn't or shouldn't."

"Then why would you?"

"Because I trust you, all of you," Harry answered simply. "I rely on you all because you are all my friends, and because all these attempts at getting into the good graces of the Minister, and everything else is for all of you, and many others like all of us, who are trundled upon by the people who hold power only to use it for nefarious purposes."

"Harry, please. Don't beat about the bush. Say it," Neville demanded. He had never heard his newly close, usually genial, and occasionally very unpredictable friend speak with such passion.

Harry nodded and brought out the notebook that he had. It was subterfuge really; as much as he trusted them, they wouldn't be privy to all his secrets, not yet anyway. But this, here and now, was a chance to include them, and he was taking it.

"Look at the patterns, Neville. In the early 1960s and 70s, the traditionalist movement started bringing up a legislation here or a topic of discussion there. Every one of them was, by some means, intended to subjugate those of at least partial non-magical descent. Here's a list of some that Sirius got me from the public archive. I am sure your grandmother too could find it."

The other three peered at it and none could contain their ejaculations of dismay. They found no respite as the page was turned to a similar list bearing the title "1988-1993".

"This...this is..." was about all that the generally placid Longbottom could articulate. Ron and Hermione were glaring at the lists as if hoping that the lists would be falsified if they stared long and angrily enough. Neville took a deep breath to control his outrage before practically hissing, "What exactly are they trying to do?"

"They are preparing for Voldemort's return." All three jumped and started at that ominous pronouncement. "Don't look surprised. Surely you can see how it is happening? Voldemort is, at the moment a spirit, but one that is as potent as an embodiment, a manifestation of Evil. They are training their children to take their place as Voldemort's minions. It is the classic case of re-emergence of organised crime, a syndicate, which is exactly what the Death Eaters and their political representations are."

"But can't people like Mr. Black or Professor Dumbledore do..." started Hermione.

"Can't they do anything about it?" completed Harry with a chiding, patronising tone. He needed them to **_see_**. "For Dumbledore, you have to ask the question, how long? How long will he do the job? How long will we hide in his shadow? People have become complacent, because if anything goes wrong, there is Dumbledore to shore things up.

"Take last year for example. He was supposed to have known how the attacks were happening. I thought it myself for a minute, you know, that night when Colin was attacked, because of something he said. But he only had his experience to draw on to know something was amiss. **_You_** solved it because you were specifically looking for something related to snakes – the missing part of the puzzle he wasn't privy to, even with the Slytherin connection."

"But what else would Dumbledore have been looking for?" countered Neville. "Now that I think of it, what greater weapon would there be for a snake-lover?"

"No sane person keeps a self-moving, slightly sentient weapon of mass destruction, in a school, never mind one that the person himself helped build. So even if the Headmaster knew, I doubt his mind would turn to a basilisk. And no snake, magical or otherwise was known to live for fifty years. And I am sure that there might be other magics and enchanted objects that could have been used – maybe like a photograph. The magical cameras do nearly blind people temporarily, so building upon that. I am sure that if I were cruel, devious and knowledgeable enough, I could do it."

All three looked shifty and slightly abashed at that. Obviously the thought had crossed their mind, as had the complacency and freedom afforded by the Headmaster's presence. He was always supposed to be there. It was an accepted fact. Ron in particular, looked very troubled by the fact, and Hermione looked upset. Harry realised he was nearly hauling them over hot coal for being children, as he was.

"All I am trying to say is that he is not young anymore, and there is no true bridge between his generation and ours, nobody active on the Wizengamot who can actually fight Malfoy and his people off. My parents, Ron's uncles, and in fact, half the people of that generation who could have done something are dead. Neville's parents are indisposed. Sirius has a long road to recovery. Susan's Aunt has a conflict of interest situation. The McMillan clan is neutral. I could go on and on."

"Is that what you have been doing," asked Hermione shrewdly, "trying to help Dumbledore? Are you trying to bridge the gap?"

"I want to help, yes, but I am under no delusions that I am actually successful enough to rate a mention."

"Not successful," snorted Ron, displaying his usual lack of tact. "Dad told us about it. He got the Minister to have seven horrible Death Eaters executed."

Even before Harry could hiss at Ron in chastisement (it wasn't to be openly spoken; Ron only knew because of his father. If Neville's grandmother who knew more had not spoken to him about it, it wasn't Harry's place to do so), Neville turned to him, eyes wide. "It was you? How?" he demanded.

"I didn't do anything that any of you couldn't have. I just knew because I was looking for something like that, the patterns that is," Harry evaded, trying to stave off further questions. He knew why Neville was so invested in it of course. "I have just learnt to not be stupid, to be ready, and to seize opportunities that present themselves."

Hermione then proved that she was capable of twisting Harry a bit. "We want to know what to look for Harry. You did say, though obliquely, that we all have to contribute, and you also told us that we could help you get that group distrusting their own members."

"What do you want to know?"

"What do you mean by patterns?"

"Let's just say that there are no coincidences or accidents. A terminally ill Mrs. Crouch's and her perfectly healthy but Azkaban–resident son's deaths weren't fishy. The timing of their deaths was."

"It might be slightly unusual, but it isn't enough to raise serious doubts," countered Neville. He was invested in this. "Many people die in Azkaban."

"Nobody gets over-elaborate cover-ups though. Crouch Sr. had a history of outlasting every opponent, yet, after giving a series of remorseful interviews where he tried to pull public sympathy to his side after his son's death and got into International Co-operation. Making a play for power later was an expected ploy, but he didn't do so for an entire decade, when he was biding his time supposedly. Nobody bides time for a _decade_."

"That alone cannot prove anything," objected Hermione. "It would be mere conjecture."

"Exactly!" agreed Ron. "That is politics. It might have made **you** suspicious, but I don't get it," he countered.

"Follow the timeline, Ron. Barty Crouch Senior stepped down as the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement the day after his "wife" died. Barty "died" first. There were calls for the man's head since his son's arrest. This was the same man who sentenced his son to Azkaban, coldly declaring for the world to hear that Crouch Junior was "no son of his". This was the same man who had faced an assassination attempt by an Auror when he refused to give the Auror a few days off to bury his family after they had been murdered."

"So why would these deaths stop him?" asked Hermione rhetorically, now realising the point.

"Why indeed? And remember, the Head of the DMLE has unrestricted access to all Azkaban procedures."

"Oh my God!" gasped Hermione as she realised the true extent of the matter.

"I still don't understand!" complained Ron. "Wouldn't anyone know? It's not like nobody knows when someone visits Azkaban. And everyone knows that Crouch visited Azkaban then, actually. It was a rumoured that he tried to interrogate his son further."

"Think of the situation from all sides," explained Neville exasperatedly. "A trained Auror, who became known as one of the most vicious heads of DMLE, with the powers of that position, chose a position where he wasn't even in the country for six months each year, where he barely had any say in internal policies and dealt with the mostly isolated international communities which only ever meet and deliberate over trade, taxes and Quidditch World Cups. What was the purpose of the interviews then, beyond an image of being a failure despite his best efforts? The obvious answer was he had something to hide. What?"

"His biggest secret, his son," answered Ron, finally getting the summary.

"Precisely," commended Harry. He also realised that he was sorely lacking in certain sources – rumours, after all, have a basis in fact. He would never know them – not till he lived beyond the sheltering walls of Hogwarts in the real magical world. Nobody went out of their way to tell children – which was what he was still considered as, a child – rumours about governments. Rumours, like some types of jokes, are of the "You have to be in the know/ you have to be there" category. "And it is entirely possible that he started the rumour himself to cover his tracks."

It took the three friends some time to internalise what they were listening. While the part that Harry had told them was only sleuthing, it wasn't all that he was doing, was it? After all, the same could have been told to the incumbent Head of the DMLE, instead of the Minister. It was a pity that none of them thought to ask that.

"So what should we do? How can we help you?" asked Hermione.

"I am rather surprised that you ask," Harry commented, "given that what I am doing is against authority structures."

"An authority has to earn the right to be in the position of authority, Harry. I am not stupid."

Harry grinned widely at her, very pleased. They had very different interpretations of law – Hermione considered the rule of law while Harry was more concerned with the spirit of it. But Hermione was, as always, a step above being just a blind rule-loving and –following idiot like Percy. Her conscience was also an important consideration for – if the rule violated her moral code, then she would oppose it. She was quite like who Amelia Bones was supposed to be, Harry realised.

"I am, then, also surprised, that you have to ask how. Surely, someone of your meticulous management skills, especially _time_ management, knows how to list things out, couple it with your rather apparent love for history, combine it with Ron's love for Chess and his rather apparent ability to understand how one move affects the rest – after translating it to real world problems – and Neville's knowledge of the magical world, his spirit, reliability, honour, loyalty, wisdom and ability to find out more through his grandmother as he prepares for future representation in the Wizengamot will be able to do and find as much or more than I did."

The three gaped at him. Well, after a minute passed during which they processed the entire ninety-seven word sentence, and were appalled and astonished in equal measure.

"How?" asked Hermione. "How do you know all this?"

"A look at your timetable is sufficient to know Hermione. From there, it was only a matter of writing to a very indulgent godfather who panders to my need to know what I think might be useful. That and your new propensity to suddenly appear, when, as is given in _Hogwarts: a History_ , you can't apparate within the school grounds, let alone the halls and classrooms. And you are perpetually tired, which has me rather irritated at your arrogance in taking all subjects, even though you know they are useless, and disregard for your physical and mental health. But I can hardly make the decision for you or advise or suggest things to you otherwise, because you are mulishly obstinate enough to stick to your decision even when you know you are wrong, unless you prove that _you_ are wrong.

"As for Ron being a chess savant, I think it might be obvious to anyone who actually takes the time to observe. How many times have I seen you explain to him cause and effect for potions from the first step to last, going back and forth several times over, and then the exultation as he understands it as a "checkmate" once the potion is complete? How many times does he use a Chess analogy to explain what he means, even whittling down people and their motivations, complex even when seemingly straightforward, to the movements of ivory pieces, however incomplete and occasionally biased it may be?

"And really Neville, your mother was my godmother. It might not mean much as things stand to others, but it means, that to me your, and your family's, honour and the motto by which you live are important to me also, especially when she cannot be there to do so herself, just as my family values are important to me. Though I often wonder why you think that being pitied is your destiny which you make self-fulfilling by wallowing in self-pity, when you should be honouring them by defying the odds all the time, as I know you can."

"This means you have an ulterior motive for telling us, for talking about things to us," Hermione commented suddenly. It was in a tone that barely concealed her irritation at being called out on "her arrogance". "You have gone through such a long time without letting people know, and now you drop your guard? No. What do you really want?"

"You are already giving me what I want. And you want to help, off your own accord. I only spoke to pique your interest a bit, nothing else," Harry responded. "All I need now is you keeping these things a secret. I doubt that it is quite an onerous responsibility."

"You are an unmitigated bastard sometimes," muttered Neville without a trace of rancour, while already thinking of ways in which he could ask his grandmother why he hadn't been told a lot of things as well as trying to find out how exactly secrets could be extricated from people. His grandmother, it was turning out, was a woman he needed to question and stand up to, no matter how much he loved her. And it scared him. He had always obeyed her, _always_. Questioning her and demanding to know more about what she knew and take responsibility which she had taken up and protected him from seemed a gargantuan task, a herculean effort.

"I am absolutely sure that your parents, as well as most of the Professors here were invited to and attended my parents' wedding, a joyous event which took place over a year and a half before my birth. I, therefore, am not an apt example," Harry 'explained'.

"You don't have to get the last word in all the time, mate."

They would not touch upon the matter again for weeks together, any of them. It was after all, severely disconcerting for them to find out that their friend had them analysed just as he was analysing people who they all could look at in a completely impersonal manner – that, and the fact that they hadn't realised how the conversation had turned from the internal factions among Slytherins to their ability to contribute.

They had obviously let their guard down around Harry, something that they would consciously check from now. He was their friend, and he had spoken out their secrets to them in confidence and as matter of example, but _they_ hadn't _told_ him. He had given them his trust and therefore, honest opinions, which was the only saving grace; that he had spoken as their friend and well-wisher and spoken of things that could be taken advantage of by others. And if he did that, so could anyone else observant enough. That was one healthy dose of caution, tinged with paranoia.

But the gnawing idea that they had to do _something_ was ingrained deeply, marking a change from the laconic young people who awaited the next adventure to spring into action instead of wanting something meaningful. They were set on the path of going from being directionless people who reacted, to people who wanted change, and in a small part of their hearts were also questioning themselves, and intended to seek their own direction.

They would be only the first of the new converts, successfully cajoled - partly out of fear - into the changes.

* * *

Sirius was reading a very perplexing letter delivered by an owl that was more a small flying peacock, as was demonstrated in its pretentiousness and the accessories it was adorned with. Why in the world would an owl need a collar bearing a family insignia? An owl was an owl. It hunted, it could be a pet that carried letters, and some truly special owls like Hedwig could be really nice friends. What business did another snowy owl have behaving like a Mal- ah of course; it _was_ a Malfoy owl – a _male Malfoy_ snowy owl. Of course it was going to strut like an albino peacock.

Holding the letter as if it were contagious, he ordered the elf in the house to strip it of every bit of magic it could find. Then he did the same, and then he tore it open. It was not paranoia if one knew that the sender was an enemy.

 _Venerated Head of House Black,_

(He was venerated?! How? Who? Why? When? If that wasn't a most singularly ominous start to a letter from Malfoy, he didn't know what was.)

 _I, Lucius Malfoy, Head of the House of Malfoy, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and loyal by marriage and in cordial relations to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, for which I have honourably in the past served as regent, offer deepest gratitude to Merlin for your release from unlawful and unjust imprisonment, perpetuated by trustworthy figures in society and judiciary._

 _The House of Malfoy wishes, therefore, to celebrate the long delayed dispensation of justice. It is the intent of the House of Malfoy for this celebration to rejuvenate all the alliances of the House of Black which the House of Malfoy has, in regency, faithfully maintained, and to celebrate the resuscitation of the House of Black on the 1_ _st_ _of March, 1994, at the Malfoy Manor grounds in Wiltshire._

 _We cordially request your august presence for the same._

 _My lady-wife, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, sends her warmest regards and her heartiest congratulations over your recently regained freedom._

 _In good faith and kinship,_

 _Lucius Abraxas Malfoy,_

 _Head of the House of Malfoy_

This was unexpected, terrible, shocking, and, unfortunately, the exact thing he, Sirius, should have been doing. Not throwing a party – gathering all allies past and present and establish the ground rules of what House Black was going to be. In his frenzied ignorance of all that was necessary for himself on this account, he had ceded ground to Malfoy.

He needed help. And at the moment, there were three people he knew who could help him. And wasn't it just shocking in every way that one of them was a thirteen-year-old?

* * *

"You know, we should actually have some means of communicating, Sirius. If you keep coming to Hogwarts all the time, even with your godson and best friend here, especially after events like these, everybody's going to think that you are Professor Dumbledore's stooge and do whatever he orders you to, or that you can't function without his advice," Remus chid.

"But it's true," Sirius desperately whined. "Right now..."

"You are making us think in your stead, and you are happy to lurch in whichever direction you are pointed towards," Dumbledore completed, every syllable dripping disappointment. "Sirius, the time that you could have for yourself has passed. You have to take responsibility now! The enemy is not going to wait for you to be at your best so that you can have an honourable battle!"

"I know that!" Sirius angrily burst out. "If perhaps I was given a trial..."

"If perhaps you were given a trial we wouldn't have been in this situation, yes I know," Dumbledore testily replied. "You know that I am sorry about it, more than I can say. But I can't change it however much I wish to. And tell me honestly; wouldn't you have spent more time grieving for James and Lily then instead of taking this group head on?"

Sirius had no answer to that. It wasn't because Sirius was a shirker. No. Sirius was as hard a worker when it came to it as any Hufflepuff and just as determined. But every man has his own reservations about some things. Sirius hated his family – he had been running away from his name, his heritage and the values espoused by the Blacks ever since he was forced to flee due to his mad mother's actions. And whichever way he looked at it, he was going to be saddled with it. One often meets one's destiny on the road one takes to avoid it, after all.

"You are Sirius Black, the last and only true Black left in the world. Your word about what the House of Black should mean is the law for your House, Sirius," Remus seriously declared. "You have to take control now. You know what they will do next."

"What?" Sirius demanded.

"If I was Malfoy, I would ensure that you would get either Harry's custody, or that of the Lestrange vaults, or preferably, neither," Remus pointed out simply. "Both things would make things better for you in some way, so just on principle, I'd be vindictive."

Sirius shoulders slumped for a minute. Then a truly fearsome expression came upon his face. "Let him try. If he tries anything to harm Harry I will tear strips of him and feed them to his peacocks. He will then know in his dying breath what it means to cross Sirius Black," he growled, so much like Padfoot was now – a bearlike dog that certainly would portend death by fright. "Is that what this is about?" he demanded of Dumbledore.

A thoughtful look came over Dumbledore's face. "In a word, yes, it is. However, I have vested interests in this matter."

"What?"

"I honestly think that Harry will be better protected at his aunt's..."

"His aunt is not his family," Sirius answered brusquely. "I am. And I will protect him better than her, who doesn't even want him. I know," he emphasised, jabbing a finger into the table to do so. "I know Petunia. He isn't tolerated in that household, not even grudgingly."

"Shall we ask him?" Dumbledore slyly asked. "He is here."

"Yes. Let's ask."

Barely a moment later, the door opened to admit the subject of their discussion. Sirius let loose upon his godson immediately.

"Harry, who'd you rather live with – me or Petunia?"

"That's not even a question," Harry replied with a dismissive scoff. "Obviously I would live with you. You are my family now, aren't you? She is just a relative who has given me a cupboard under the stairs to live in, and food if she felt like it, for ten years in exchange for housework and being stupider than Dudley."

In that moment, two incredulous glares turned towards Dumbledore, whose own face could have caused a dragon to whimper.

"Good, because that is settled," Sirius replied, still glaring at his former Headmaster.

The old man didn't respond in any manner for a long minute, before he cleared his throat and simply declared, "Yes. It is."

If he found the situation in any manner odd, Harry didn't comment. So far as he was concerned, Sirius was free, so there was no discussion to be had over the matter. "So..."

Still glowering at the Headmaster, Sirius thrust the letter towards Harry.

"That's all?" the boy asked incredulously after a minute, though he still struggled to not snicker at the venerated part. "This is what's worrying you enough to come to the Headmaster? Not that I am complaining, mind; he schedules lessons for me when you come, practically," he hastily added.

"What would you do then?" Sirius asked peevishly. "I am already thinking of arranging a small get-together of all allies past and present and say no to this one..."

"Or, alternatively, you could do the same, call him and all other old Black allies as well as the new ones, as well as people like the Tonkses. Malfoy, for all his family spiel, will never call them, and if you make a grander show of it all, and give the Tonkses a position of honour socially, then Malfoy can't tweak your nose, gets his own bloodied, and can only grin and bear it. Plus, since it is your hospitality they will be enjoying, they can hardly disrespect the people you invite."

"And I can apologise for the lateness by saying that I had other things on my mind and forgot about this and thank him for..."

"No. That will give him ammunition to say that you are in dereliction of your duties and that you are unfit for the same. Instead redecorate the place wherever you can have a get-together, keep the mood sombre because you don't feel like celebrating, but only are taking efforts to rejuvenate old ties. He can't complain, you dictate the tone and the mood and you can give him a kick in the... ah..."

"I am temporarily deaf, Harry," Dumbledore said with a most innocent expression. "I am a bit busy trying to find faults, but that was definitely at least an E."

Deciding that the adults were being a bit too strange even by their usual standards, he turned to Remus and asked, fairly baffled that this was all that was the rather self-evidently flimsy matter, "Was this really all? I mean, the motivation might be different, but I have seen _Dudley_ have a party at the Dursleys and inviting all our classmates just so that nobody would go to another kid's birthday party."

The Defence against the Dark Arts professor carefully weighed his words. Now that he thought of it, it did seem incredibly stupid to not have been thought – though of course, as Harry said, Dumbledore scheduled a lesson whenever Sirius came, so he must have expected something like this or better, obviously. He hadn't bothered to correct Harry, yet, so...

"No. It isn't. We do not know what they are doing next, and when Sirius came with the letter, I had a terrible idea what their endgame would be with Sirius. That is what we need to address."

Remus went on to explain things to him. Harry's face became grimmer and grimmer. It was very much within the realm of possibilities. It was after all what made him such a high-ranking Death Eater. He didn't think that whatever artefact it was that Voldemort had given Malfoy – Malfoy was a servant and Voldemort was an entirely too paranoid bastard to leave his things around – just happened to be in the man's possession for him to use as he pleased. No there was something deeper going on there.

"That's one terrible soup that he wants to boil us in," he finally remarked. "He intends to construct an all or nothing scenario."

"Quite right, young man," agreed Dumbledore, setting aside his kookiness. "If Sirius lets go of you, it makes him out to be the man who won't shoulder his responsibilities. If he lets go of the vault, with Voldemort's return a growing dot on the horizon, we risk practically financing his return."

"Yet you wanted me to..." Sirius started hurling at Dumbledore in an accusatory tone.

"No. But I do know how to trigger people, Sirius. It got you angry enough, to want to take the fight to Malfoy yourself, didn't it?"

"Oh."

"Can somebody tell me...?"

"No. It doesn't concern you," Remus shortly answered.

"I think..."

"No, Harry. That is the last you shall ask of that and we shall answer," Remus firmly declared.

Harry speared the man with a rebellious gaze that Remus dismissed summarily.

"What must be added to what Harry said in response to the letter is the set of actions that will force their hands," Dumbledore firmly cut in. "You have to be seen as an authoritative person – the ultimate authority in the Black Family. You have already sent one message by dismissing Lucius as the Regent of the Black family. You have to emphasise the fact that Lucius is no longer in the Black Family's favour, but that this fall from favour is not extended by you to all other members of the former alliance, and especially not to other living members of the Black family – especially those that you can, may have or should reinstate."

"That will truly piss him off...sorry Professor Dumbledore," Harry cheekily added. "He will expect to be some sort of leader of the contingent for the old Alliance, in spite of the fact that he isn't on the Wizengamot anymore, so ignoring him or putting him in his place will enrage him enough to poke his ego-balloon."

"You two are the best. You are the best godson anyone can ask for," Sirius pronounced in gleeful gratitude, hugging Harry hard.

"Um...okay."

"And you are the best Headmaster..."

"I think I shall decline your praise at this time, since I have just found some truly terrible mistakes and underestimations on my part..." Dumbledore coolly added.

"Right," accepted the former prisoner of Azkaban, his exuberance dimming exponentially. "Alright then, the fifteenth of March is a good enough I think."

"Hmmm...The Ides of March," Dumbledore muttered, "Yes. That should do. They will have made a move during that time though, so you might have to take all that into consideration," he cautioned. "The next Wizengamot meeting is on the 10th of March, after all."

"So I need to call up Augusta, Edmund Bones, George Wolfe, Shannon Fawley and Charles Shacklebolt then?"

"That's at least two of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, isn't it?" Harry asked with the severe distaste he held for the term reeking from his tone.

"Yes. That's three of the twenty-eight, actually, if you exclude me. But you have to understand, Harry, I doubt either Charles, or Shannon, or Augusta or I really care about that. It was not a term we coined. We are part of it by accident of birth, not design. We don't bandy it about like Malfoy does."

Harry subsided immediately. "No, of course you don't. I am sorry."

"You needn't be. If it was up to me, I would see that term crumbling down as well. But right now, that is not my priority. In fact, if by some manner, the Death Eaters among the twenty-eight were irreversibly, irreparably discredited, that would be for the best, instead of the complete destruction of the group. It gives us leeway to express disgust and ask people to not consider our families' honour of the same grade as of those people."

Sirius felt a bit worried when he saw the gleam in his godson's eyes which told him that he had either done something monumentally right – or monumentally terrible.

* * *

"Thank you for bringing this to my notice, old friend," Lucius remarked, as he poured a finger of cognac for his guest. "Then again, it is unsurprising. Black will always try to be Dumbledore's little lapdog. But meeting Potter – I see that Black has plans with the boy."

"Do what you must, Lucius. You do not need me to express my stand upon the matter."

"No of course I don't. Black gaining the trust of the boy...I can see how seeing them happy in any manner hurts you," he added with a slight sneer.

"Of all the people, Lucius, I doubt you are among those happy to see them happy. You forget, after all, that it was I who taught your son some rudimentary protections, and your drunken rants featured quite prominently in his memories."

Lucius winced. Of course, how foolish of him was it to underestimate one of the most brilliant, dour, able and vile men in magical Britain?

"Your information will be taken into advisement, Severus."

"I hope you don't need me to remind you that you still do have a position of power over Potter? Even though you are not on the Wizengamot, you still do have the ear of several Governors on the school board who may be unimpressed by...the special allowances that the boy has been afforded."

"Someone is in a hurry, I see."

"I was merely pointing out avenues that you have as yet left untouched."

Malfoy hid his sour expression behind his glass as he took a measured sip.

Severus hid a smirk behind his. _"I promised you I'd protect him, Lily. I never said from what. The Dark Lord, and James Potter and Sirius Black, neither shall be able to touch him truly."_

* * *

Sorry for the long delay. This chapter, and my school-ending examination preparations, left me out of the loop till I became type-crazy and jotted out **_Leader_** and then completed this. It's like an itch one has in unmentionable places when one is in public, having unfinished chapters.

Also, I know that we bash Snape a lot on this account. Here he is clinging to canon, and I won't bash him, but his idea of protecting Harry **_is_** skewed. Sirius, James, Remus and Lily **_are_** and will remain positive characters.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Masks that Words Make**

A/N: Thanks to all the readers, followers, favourite-markers, and reviewers: Gime'SS, WhiteEagle1985, daithi4377, Hamm on Wry, mwinter1, flame55, bet7368, sassy (Guest), Q (Guest who hates Hermione), Cool Fanfiction Lover, sunsethill, Dark Lord Tater Tot, Dr. Stranger, Harriverse, Tork01, and Calmzone1.

I am done with the exams (we have them during the first three weeks of March under the aegis of the State Board), and do hope that I have done well enough for my purposes. I have fully planned itinerary for my holidays, and writing remains a part of it.

Warning: there are two Wizengamot speeches in here which are long.

Do also read our other stories.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was one irritated man. Well not irritated, exactly, because it did not describe the complete range of his frustration. Nonetheless, as with everything else, he would have to compromise with that thoroughly underwhelming description of his state.

Indeed, given how he felt cooped up, fighting a visibly invisible enemy, he almost felt... _cuckolded_...as far as his ambitions went. He knew that Black was nobody fit to be the Head of that prized House, and irrespective of the fact that he might have taken Dumbledore's advice, it didn't actually seem like that. After all, he couldn't see Dumbledore truly extending a hand of friendship towards the old Black allies, and in ways that seemed to make people think that they had misjudged the man after all. _He_ had thought the same for a moment, one terrible, shameful, shameful moment.

And he still held the proof of that thought in his hands, a proof wherein Black had reiterated the small fact that he stood above the House of Malfoy, which was precisely why Lucius' father wanted him to marry into that family, and the reason why he had showered Narcissa with so much attention that even he had believed that he loved her for a while.

 _Head of House Malfoy,_

(And there was the distinct lack of written respect, though nobody _could_ actually complain with the strictly formal opening; his own obsequious patronisation – a rarely achieved combination – was always meant to befuddle Black.)

 _Your letter was with warmest regards received. Please accept my heartfelt gratitude for your good wishes on my recently regained freedom. Justice was indeed delayed and therefore denied, as it was in the turbulent times since the fall of the monster that many of us fell prey to – either as victims, or as gullible slaves to the honeyed words of a despicable murderer who has no doubt influenced his followers for eternity, for twelve long years._

(In simpler words, he was calling Malfoy a Death Eater and a despicable murderous monster. Lucius was both.)

 _The House of Malfoy has safeguarded what it believed the values of the House of Black to be, well during the same time, preserving the status quo. These past weeks have been fruitfully dedicated to reviewing all decisions so taken, all representations thereof made, and gathering a deeper understanding of the changing landscape of our society's policies. The House of Malfoy has ensured that the House of Black has not languished in obscurity. For that the House of Malfoy has the gratitude of House Black, no matter which way your esteemed self interprets the immediate reversion of the Wizengamot Seat to the Head of House in place of the regency till then honourably assumed._

(Initially, it made Lucius wonder. Was Black not what they thought him to be, after all? That brought another set of problems with it – Black now had public sympathy, Potter's ears, Dumbledore's trust and if he resumed leadership of the faction Lucius thought he now lead, he still could never be considered a usurper.

The second reading though, brought realisation. Translation: I _am_ the Head of House Black, Lucy. It wasn't you – it isn't you. You have damaged our reputation, you pillock! You used and abused a position that was never yours. And I bloody well will hold you responsible for all the laws you voted in, you wanker. Of course, Lucius wouldn't even imagine himself being addressed thus.)

 _In view of the same, a gathering of all allies old and new, and of all living family, is arranged on the fifteenth of March at the Obsidian Gardens, which shall reflect the honour of the guests, and the host as well. The formal invitation, and the address and floo details, have been attached herewith, considering the fact that it was forgotten as the home of the Head of House Black, and in my absence, had fallen into considerable disrepair. My cousin, your esteemed Lady-Wife, will be glad to know that her childhood home and memories have been restored to their former intact and pristine state._

( _She_ is provisionally welcome, because she still is family. _You_ are an unwelcome add-on, a viper I must cling to because you need to be watched. And it bloody effing will be on my territory, _not_ yours.)

 _The House of Black, herewith, humbly also apologises for not only declining your invitation but also for the disruption of the planned event that the House of Malfoy intended to host. It must be insisted though, that such a gathering – not a celebration, for this is no happy occasion but merely one that gives relief – be hosted by the House of Black, and not even Houses connected by alliance or relation._

 _Thank you for your forbearance, Head of House Malfoy. I look forward to meeting your esteemed self and your lady-wife on the aforementioned date._

 _In good faith and kinship,_

 _Sirius Orion Black_

 _Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black_

This was...this was...Lucius had no real words to express his anger, his fury. There, pre-emptively, his plans of drawing attention to the idea that Sirius was irresponsible by pointing out that he had not called for a meeting himself was demolished. He had no doubt that the letters to the other Heads of House would follow a similar pattern, especially the line about the venue. Lucius did not want that place to be the Seat of the House of Black, as it were. His neglect of the place was intentional, for he wanted that seat to shift to the Malfoy Villa. Taking that place up and restoring it to its former glory – one that both Lucius and his father had envied – was a message sent in words as clear as they could politically be.

Sirius Black was the Head of House Black.

Any other claimants were...dubious.

And if that didn't make at least a few of the 'allies' dither, he didn't know what would. Oh, none of them would say it openly, for they all distrusted each other enough to know that this was a minor thing. No, it was Black making a statement that could potentially isolate him that was the problem.

He would have to take up Selwyn on his offer, it seemed.

And then an idea struck him. Yes. That would bring Black down a few pegs.

* * *

Over the coming days, the _Daily Prophet_ decided to make Sirius the cynosure of its entirely unwanted and unwarranted attention, behaving quite like tabloids do with celebrities. First there were the two page spreads about the House of Black, its past members and so on and so forth, as well as a list of its descendants. While Ron (through Cederella Weasley nee Black) and Neville (through Callidora Longbottom nee Black) attracted curious stares from other students, and especially those like several of the 'former' Death Eater names, the relation of the Potters to the House of Black was assiduously ignored – both that of Dorea Potter, James' mother, as well as Sirius being Harry's godfather.

It wasn't at all surprising that there were so many people related to the Blacks, given that at one point, they were what the Weasleys became by the 1980s – the largest magical family around. But to completely ignore (in content and proportion) the very fact that _Dementors_ had been stationed around Hogwarts to protect Harry from Sirius, as Dumbledore had in confidence revealed, it meant that the boy who had done enough sleuthing to recognise that his godfather hadn't had a trial had to sit up and take notice.

He wasn't the only one. Remus was becoming increasingly vigilant himself.

"Did you...?"

"See how the entire Potter-Black angle which basically makes Sirius famous at the moment is brushed over?" Remus completed. "Yes. There's no mention of your grandmother."

Underlining a few more phrases that had been twisted into questions such as, "where does the man accused of betraying family stand?" which were about the only blink-and-you-miss references that could point to Sirius' status as a "blood-traitor", Harry replied with an absent shrug, "It's not surprising."

"The Daily Prophet has always been known for its rather spirited attempts at convenient interpretations of the state of matters," Dumbledore agreed. He had taken on board the complaint that he only ever bothered to teach when Sirius came around. Right now, he was observing as Harry had gathered the week's papers to trawl through for words with more meaning than there seemed to be.

"Who is this Skeeter woman anyway?" Harry asked with a hint of frustration. When Remus and Dumbledore looked at him oddly, he added, "I have observed her articles. Sensationalism, twisted implications and accusations posed as questions is her modus operandi. Yet nobody ever calls her out on _anything_. Why? Surely she must have trodden on many toes by now?"

"That's a good but incomplete summary of her most intriguing means of investigative reportage," Dumbledore stated. "She has trodden on toes, and I doubt there isn't at least one person in every magical household who doesn't hold a grudge against her. You asked and answered it yourself, Harry; just look at what you are doing, and why you are doing it. Journalism is, for many, just a cover. Rita is the crown jewel of an additional profession."

"She is targeting Sirius at someone's behest."

"The editors' obviously," Harry concluded. "They must have control for articles of this expanse, right?"

Dumbledore frowned. "No, Harry. I must say you are fairly off the mark here. Rita's brand of journalism has her focussing exclusively upon a particular subject at any time. She is focussed on Sirius, and he is old news, even for a slow news period."

"So someone is persuading the editors to look the other way and has Rita targeting Sirius?" Harry guessed. "She is a mercenary!"

"I did say that the Daily Prophet has a sparkling history of creative interpretations of situations. Yes. Rita is being deployed by her masters, and it is not Barnabas Cuffe."

"But what's the purpose?" wondered Remus.

"It could be a challenge. Or it could be a build-up," Dumbledore theorised. He then remained silent as he watched Harry puzzle over the matter and try and catch up with that train of thought.

"They have some nasty surprise waiting for Sirius in the Wizengamot on the tenth, don't they?"

And sometimes, even without his head in the game, Harry could be a quick student. But there wasn't time for commendations.

"You seem to be distracted today, my boy," Dumbledore prodded as he peered over his half-moon spectacles.

"It's nothing sir," Harry replied, a bit too quickly, as he peered at the paper again and frowned deeply.

"I hope that competing with Miss Granger for Madam Pince's admonishment for working overtime in the library when your Quidditch engagements don't tie you down is not tiring you?"

"One can never know enough, sir. I have learnt that from you. You seem to know everything."

"But can you use what you know?"

"A lot of it seems dangerous sometimes," Harry admitted still frowning distractedly at the paper as he flipped back a few pages. "I do not believe myself capable of applying all that I try to learn."

"So long as you are not learning Dark Magic, self-study is encouraged within these walls," Dumbledore went on serenely, practically handing Harry an open-approach offer on the behalf of the professors. "Demands on our time aside, we are all entirely willing to reward and encourage initiative," he went on.

This random change of topics was deliberate. He had himself encountered several people who often chose to disturb him during something important. And one can hardly brush people off – it is not only the height of rudeness, but one risks antagonising people in the long-term. He intended for Harry to develop the skill to hold an end of at least one conversation even when his mind was devoted to some other matter. It had helped him immensely in the ICW.

At the same time, he was encouraging Harry to approach the professors. There were already several times that the weekly meetings had someone mentioning the boy among the better performing students, particularly with his continued attempts to look at every spell or theory in a different manner, geared towards applying it differently than expected. With academia and his extracurricular interests, Harry seemed to be as good as an heir of his own to Dumbledore.

His musings were broken when Harry grimly announced, "They are going to do something related to the prisoners of Azkaban, past or present. She has increased the frequency with which she mentions Sirius as a prisoner in passing. It's never in direct context, but it's almost as if they are trying to reinforce the idea that Sirius was a prisoner. Even to describe the same person, there are only so many times you can point to his imprisonment without actually talking about it."

"Really?" demanded Remus, standing at the Headmaster's shoulder, as the latter drew the papers towards him. Marked on every one of the issues with a story on Sirius was a tally of such mentions. They really were incremental. "What could they target Sirius with now?"

"You are assuming it is Sirius they are targeting, Remus," the Headmaster corrected, pondering over the matter himself. It was difficult to theorise without any data, except for this sudden interest in Sirius. Somehow, Remus' worries about a custodial battle seemed prescient. Dumbledore hoped he was wrong; he had been wrong before. It just didn't feel like one of those instances. Age and experience had helped him develop that sense.

* * *

After the first week, the Prophet toned down on its narrative gradually. Indeed, even its tone varied.

Some of the earlier articles made him out to be a monster about whom the jury was still out and who had become free only on some technicality. Some made him out to be a lost man, unsure of where he stood as the world changed. Still others harped upon his attacking Voldemort (though again, his association with the Potters, something that at first glance seemed to define him and by which most people knew him, was barely touched upon) and listed the notorious Death Eaters he had put down in self-defence.

It never actually touched upon his work with the emergency response teams that volunteered during the war, his management and leadership when carrying out rescue operations, or the time when he had helped unearth the plan to lay an indirect siege to St. Mungo's by the Death Eaters as they bottlenecked the supply chains. He had even been heavily injured in a retaliatory attack.

Yet crucially, the articles started reading like a publicity gimmick by _Sirius_ ; as if they had been paid for by _him_.

And they weren't. Remus had sent his friend, disgruntled by the sudden attention when he just wanted to be left alone, a missive to keep his eyes peeled and his ears sharp. He had reported a request for a "comprehensive interview" and a tell-all book about his time in Azkaban. It was the furthest thing that Sirius would ever care to talk about. They had been summarily refused.

"That's going to smart," Harry had observed when Remus had told him about it on Wednesday, when the DADA class was the last of the day and he could hold Harry back to talk.

"And they are going to converge on him like flies on a rotting carcass."

Pulling a face, Harry protested, "I don't care much for that description."

"No. But it is apt, I assure you."

And so they had. The tone again changed, making it now seem like Sirius was behaving like a diva. The articles became more and more ludicrous, meaningless and so very obviously attention-grabbing that it was a groan and a "Not again!" that greeted each one now.

 _"_ _What is Sirius Black doing with his free days as rich single man?"_

 _"_ _What is more important_ now _that being the Head of one of our oldest Houses?"_

 _"_ _Sirius Black: The Man-Who-Won't-Talk."_

 _"_ _What is Black hiding?"_

It seemed as if it was a media campaign to see how much they could needle Sirius before he reacted. And the expected reaction was supposed to be fiery, explosively so, and foolish. It was becoming increasingly obvious to those that _had_ a side that this was targeting one individual, a soft target who could not exactly react in any manner without either gaining more unwanted attention or coming off as stupid.

Others though, were already muttering, no doubt through vicarious experiences collected through the friend of a friend of a friend's grandmother's aunt's great-granddaughter that Sirius was an attention-seeker and an incorrigible, good-for-nothing person. It marred a sizeable bit of the sympathy he had gained, turning him into a figure of scorn for some.

Worse still, they ended up turning him into the type of brainless bimbos who tried for fifteen seconds of fame by exposing themselves. Evidence of that was when a couple of Gryffindor girls were spied upon with their counterparts drooling over and giggling at Sirius' photographs.

About the only good thing to transpire in the matter, if it could be called that, was that Remus was not dragged into anything. For someone who had made it a personal mission to know everything about Sirius, if Skeeter found out that the animagus form was for Remus' benefit and so was the rat, and the stag, and then realised _why_ Remus needed that, it would all go down the hill.

* * *

Sirius perused through the letters sent by his guests confirming their attendance at the get-together. All were standard replies, the sort of which are made decades in advance and people just copy the format, write, reply, and forget about. He was unsure whether he was supposed to read something into the fact that the letters from the "old allies", a term that was only true since the alliances weren't broken, were not accompanied by personal ones as those from Longbottom, Fawley, Shacklebolt, Wolfe and Bones were.

He chose not to. They knew that he knew that they would rather see him fall and fail.

Then there was Andromeda. She had responded to the letter with a visit.

There were many things that could have been said, and Sirius could have acted cold and high and mighty. But she wasn't the only one to fear that he had toed the family line after all, and having been part of said family, she had more reason to fear it. So instead, he just met her as he would have year before, all things forgiven. He had worse things to worry about. He was being surprisingly prescient.

* * *

"Rise," the bailiff bellowed, "for the Right Honourable Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore!"

There was a shifting of benches as the attendees to the Wizengamot session complied. As Dumbledore took his seat and surveyed everyone before bidding them all to sit down, Sirius unconsciously copied his actions. There were no fixed seats for the members; people could sit where they wished to or where they could find space if they arrived particularly late. Nott was sitting in first row. The others were arranged around him.

Sirius was trying to do better, and if nothing else he remembered that it wasn't only the words but also the actions or lack thereof, that mattered. That the group had come early – nearly thirty minutes early, and had arranged themselves thus, meant that they intended to be heard. This bore close observation.

Nott, Selwyn and Jugson were seated together, taut and ready to spring into action.

There was a quick review of the minutes of the previous meeting, followed by a few sundry reports by the Minister, touching upon the various departments, before Dumbledore ordered a one hour recess around twelve, like the lunchtime after a drab morning session in a Test Match with no wickets, several maiden overs and about twenty runs scored.

But the hour passed, and the wickets started to tumble.

First there was a proposal for constructing a small clinic near Azkaban on a small connected island owned by the Ministry. It was summarily opposed by many, not least by Sirius himself, though he stressed that he opposed it in the present form. His was one of the highlights of what turned out to be a three-and-a-half hour debate

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am sure you must be surprised that I stand here to oppose this move to build a clinic on Little Azkaban. There are several reasons to it, that I as a former hostage am uniquely positioned to recognise. In fact, my own dire healthcare needs were taken care of by the DMLE, and even though I remain embittered by my wrongful incarceration, my gratitude and commendation to the people doing the job currently does not seem enough."

One of the great things about open sessions – sessions not including criminal trials, or censure or anything of any sort that would contravene the several secrecy laws that were embedded into the body's code of operation – was that these sessions were broadcast live by the Wizarding Wireless Network (WWN). So after weeks of being called a former prisoner, this particular bit showcased enough of Sirius' ire, and gave a completely legal definition to his situation as well. Of course, he ran the risk of alienating the Ministry, but it was a risk to be taken.

"For the prisoners of Azkaban, and bear in mind that many of those that are guilty – I again am ill-equipped to generalise – are still criminals guilty of a very low order of crime. They do deserve basic human amenities and decency which is what the proposal undoubtedly aims for. Even those that are worse, we are required to ensure that we do not stoop to that level, at least in theory. Moreover, some criminals, even as their crimes disgust us, should not be brought into contact with other people. They are simply too dangerous.

"But the proposal as it stands does not suffice in providing the basic security from these people, still criminals, to the rest of the world at large. The clinic will be and can be manned by humans; Dementors, from my experience are unable to provide healthcare or facilitate the same, and can hardly be placed around the clinic. I also doubt that the proximity with the creatures would be conducive to a healing atmosphere.

"But that is the least of the problems. Indeed, I place myself again at your judgement. Yes, my motivations were different, but I did manage to escape. That was in the presence of Dementors. The clinic, as the proposal portrays it, shall become a massive hole in the defences currently being patched up.

"Imagine, if you could without shuddering in fear, a conspiracy just as gruesome as the one Peter Pettigrew unveiled before this very hall. Imagine the likes of Augustus Rookwood, with his vast knowledge, murderous intents and as much I wish to prevaricate, astounding brains," he painted, his voice dropping to a low timbre as he painted a scene of horror, deliberately leaving out any mention of a far worse evil – Bellatrix. It was bad form to call her names while still having an appeal for her vault. "Imagine another Peter Pettigrew, intent upon carrying out his heinous conspiracy. The clinic would be easily compromised. Do we want that?"

Sirius may not have been back to his best if he even knew what it was anymore, but he was still good at creating scenes and holding the attention of people.

"Imagine," he went on, "a group of compromised healers, able to attack at will. Healers, in whose skilled hands life-saving potions could become poisons. Humans – as has been rather forcibly brought to our attention by now – can be controlled by various means. Imagine people misusing the institution, subverting and circumventing the course of law by submitting to spurious health troubles, lasting for nearly as long as their period of punishment. No. We do **_not_** want that." He ended it with a fist pounding on the railing in front of him, with a low growl. "And that is perfectly possible. Do not forget what happened to the Crouches. Do not forget what they did."

There were contemplative looks on many faces.

"And I shall go forth to provide the other side. Imagine a hostage like me, quietly disposed of by medical means. I **_am_** innocent, as was proved to this august body. If there languishes another person who shares my fate, do we run the risk of having his blood on our hands? No, I say!"

Some polite applause punctuated that.

"But," and this time, he used a tone not to generate fear to supplement his words, but to show his humanity and the brighter side of the proposal, "again, we must remember the noble intent. Do we want the blood of any man or woman on our hands, if indeed our capital punishment takes away his or her soul and wipes out the very existence of the person?

"This proposal, my respected colleagues has both its merits and flaws. There exist very obvious solutions to combat the situations I have spoken of, namely Unbreakable Vows and the like. But we can hardly demand such a Vow which may even compete with the Healer's Vows, can we?

"I say we revisit this proposal, but only after we have a clear solution that is both legally, morally and ethically sound, and logistically feasible. The intent has the support of House Black, but, till a satisfying set of binding rules, laws and protections for any healers that may be required to work there exists, there is no justification for taking the responsibility away from the DMLE.

"Thank you."

A round of loud but polite applause filled the Chamber at that.

After three more speakers, one of whom gave an impassioned speech in opposition in much the same way the more stubborn ones spoke of werewolf rights, while the other two practically parroted Sirius' stance, the matter was voted upon. The proposal was recommended for amendments, particularly the ones endorsed by Sirius.

It left Sirius with a feeling of accomplishment. He had not made a complete fool of himself.

Unwittingly though, he had set himself up nicely for the proposal Nott had readied –at least a part of it. For Selwyn, the one qualified as a lawyer, had framed the proposal nested so deep within that at first glance nothing would seem out of place.

"Is there any new business for the House to consider?" Dumbledore asked.

Very politely, Nott raised his lit wand.

"Mr. Nott," the Chief Warlock acknowledged. "The Chamber would be pleased to hear your plea."

"Respected colleagues of the Wizengamot," the man started in a smooth cultured drawl, "the matter I bring forth today is one that should not be even required. However, times are changing, and with it, we must too, if we wish to protect something very important to us all."

He waited with a dramatic pause and a small grim smile as people looked at him with questions, suspicion and pure perplexity written on their faces.

"We, as a society, have always been a very small, demographically speaking. Magic, for all her inscrutable ways, does not choose to bless everyone, and occasionally, even those born to those already blessed. As such every child, every single child my friends, is to be treasured. Every child," his voice dropped to a passionate growl, "is to be protected."

There were calls of "Hear, hear!" from the audience and the Chief Warlock had to appeal for silence for Nott to continue speaking. Only those well-versed with Dumbledore's expression could see that he had already pretty much decided that the man was up to no good.

"In the past, there have been attempts of course, to have individual strictures put into place to ensure safety."

He nodded to Jugson who passed a sealed large packet to the court scribe. It contained a list of the minor laws and such that were in effect or had been in the past. It was flimsy.

"As you can see," he spoke after five minutes, when most people were done perusing the document, "these attempts were wholly unstructured, hardly encompassed even a fraction of the range of problems that they were meant to address and were, simply put, futile, never mind how noble the intentions were."

He received subdued murmurs of agreement.

"It is with the intent, therefore, to combine as many of those regulations as were deemed sensible," and here Sirius knew he had to be very attentive, for what could be deemed sensible by Nott would not really be so on the whole scale, "with some new ways which we believe shall be useful in protecting our children, no matter their situation, to the fullest of our capabilities.

"One salient point that I believe I must draw attention to, is that of children placed in situations that intersect with the muggle world. The unfortunate circumstances that led to the separation of our societies are not yet eradicated. The worst brunt of this is borne by children. The," he paused here to take a deep gulp of water, and the next word told Sirius that it was a calculated move to ensure that it was Nott's way to prevent himself from using the wrong word, "muggleborn children still are considered those of "the Devil". There were no previous attempts to monitor their home lives. This has been considered now."

And Sirius did not like it one bit. They might get Harry away from the Dursleys, but what about the other children, like his friend Hermione (the only one among the children that Sirius knew of), or someone else? This move, if anyone else had suggested it would probably be taken at face value, but here, it was a Death Eater who was proposing the monitoring of muggle houses.

"Another important consideration is that of the mental wellbeing of both the children and their guardians. Neglectful or abusive upbringings do affect children, but even the hampered mental health of a well-meaning guardian can affect how they interact with children. So guardians and those awarded custody of displaced or orphaned children need to be vetted as well.

"These I believe are the more important points that the proposal I wish to bring forward coalesces. I can hardly claim perfection, but I beg this chamber to give it due consideration. All suggestions, criticisms and methods to improve this so as to enable us to protect children, and enforce a wholesome Child Protection Act will be welcomed with immense gratitude. Thank you."

At this juncture, both Selwyn and Jugson raised their lit wands. Alphabetically, the latter spoke first. "I beg the Chamber to note that the House of Jugson supports this proposal in its entirety."

Selwyn then followed suit, employing similar words.

A round of applause, considerably louder and longer than that reserved for the other speakers of the day, followed, before Dumbledore added his remarks.

"Indeed, while the unfortunate circumstances alluded to by Mr. Nott do exist in the muggle world, they have taken several steps to better themselves on that aspect. That this has been proposed for our world is both worrying and gratifying in equal measure. I thank Mr. Nott for the same, and commend his initiative."

The gong went off five times, signalling the end of the day's session.

"Unfortunately, we cannot conduct further business today, but I would strongly insist that this matter is brought up for discussion in our next meeting. In my capacity as the Chief Warlock, I shall of course be studying this extremely important issue carefully, and if M/s Nott, Jugson and Selwyn could find some time in their busy schedules for consultation, and so also the rest of the members of this congregation, I believe our time shall be fruitfully devoted if, instead of adjourning the matter for the next monthly meeting, it can be brought up with more regularity. I request you all to reach through to the Office of the Chief Warlock for the same. This is deserves thorough consideration."

"We thank you, Chief Warlock," Nott solemnly replied. "We shall be available at your disposal."

* * *

"He accepted it," Selwyn stated simply, as the allies sat to discuss the day's session. "It went off just as I predicted."

"Has anyone made the connection, though?" Malfoy asked.

"I have no reason to believe so," Jugson assured. "They were, I am sure, stunned by Nott's words, particularly when he spoke of protecting the mudblood brats."

"Don't underestimate Dumbledore," Mulciber cautioned. "That man has the ability to see through this."

"Indeed," agreed the rest.

"Black?" asked Lucius again.

"He made a great show of being attentive, suspicious and tenacious, especially where the Clinic proposal was concerned. The pretender that he is..." Gibbon trailed off with a self-satisfied smirk. "Go on Lucius. Blindside him."

* * *

About the _Prophet's_ treatment of Sirius – the Beckhams, Kardashians, every scandal that tabloids come up with, any click-bait in all newspapers that write only bad things about your favourite Sports team...the list is endless.

I have a planned ending for this story, and the outline and everything are pretty much complete in substance, though they mutate every now and then. Once I am done with this or 'Leader', I am going to go after a very heavily abused trope (bashing and all that): **_Harry is Slytherin reincarnated_**. I have read three of those in the past three days, hoping for some inspiration in terms of situations, and they all involved bashing and proving Salazar-Harry's superiority over Dumble-dick/Dumble-bum/Fumble-dick (and other...delightful variations of Dumbledore's names). Maybe I am looking at the wrong stories.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Expose – I**

Thanks to all readers, favourite markers, followers, and the reviewers: mwinter1, Arnie1701, alix33, Hortensia, monbade, CoolFanfictionLover, flame55, sunsethill, stealacandy, and syed.

Negative or positive, reviews mean there is definite interest.

* * *

Nott was widely lauded for his stance following the tabling of the proposal. He gave two interviews in that week alone. He stayed within every limit of political correctness and dotted every 'i' and crossed every't', and then did the same for every 'j' and every 'f' for good measure. His son took the opportunity to bask in the reflected glory.

There were editorials about the new proposed law, as well as truly well-researched investigative articles in the Prophet. They didn't need to reinterpret the truth for these stories, which tactfully included stories about some pureblood families as well, when it was such scandalous, "hard-hitting journalism", and was meant to generate sympathy. For all the true ethos of the profession, they, like most journalists through time, had forgotten that their job was to provide the unvarnished, unbiased truth. It was only fitting that they found their morals when it benefitted them without it seeming to benefit them – though it wasn't as if they should have pretended everything was hunky-dory when it wasn't. It was just that the cases of child abuse, neglect and endangerment, none later than 1985, were not chronicled when they would have helped the victims.

And therein lay the conundrum. It was a wonderful piece of legislation if taken at face value. It really was a step forward. It would be political suicide to not side with it and it was also extremely necessary. Also the spoken intent was such that whoever tried to criticise it or to pick it apart right down to the nitty-gritty would be viewed with contempt by people with no alliance to Nott. Yet, the monitoring part which he had spoken of, or the observation of people with mental histories was terrible, because it was open to accusation-based enforcement. It was very arbitrary that way, at least as far as the superficial description went. And that could not be remedied without seeming to be against the proposal's major aspects.

And this was without the fact that it was people who were Death Eaters who would get information regarding muggleborn students and their homes, unless that side was quickly shored up.

About the only good thing from Harry's point of view was that his home life had not made it to the list.

* * *

Curiously, the papers were so thoroughly done with the topic of Sirius that it seemed that there was no mention of the man ever in the history of magical news. Not that that was a bad thing, since Sirius primarily just wanted to be left alone, and the Prophet was complying, for a change. But Sirius' stand about the other proposal of the day was certainly controversial, given his personal experience, and since it was the one that had people following it, it at least deserved mention in the news articles that quoted other members.

It was enough to raise paranoia in the little group of students as well, once the fact had been pointed out. The rapid changes in media disposition, though their motivations and intended effects were not understood well enough to predict any changes, were enough to tell them that something was afoot, something was wrong. And it made them a bit antsy.

"I think," Neville said ponderously, more thinking aloud than anything else, "that it would be prudent to revisit the source – that proposal by Nott. We might be going about this the wrong way."

The word "we" had quickly come into flowing use about these things. It made them a bit secretive, but otherwise, the three newly awakened students wanted to actually contribute. It was the thing about learning from a peer – people sometimes find it easier to interact with someone who they either know or think won't judge them on how and where their thoughts on the matter went.

"You are thinking of saving the board by thinking back to any traps being set up in previous moves and breaking them before we lose a piece," Ron sagely agreed.

"Yes."

"I don't want to rain on your parade, but does either of you know enough legal language to decipher what is being said, and quickly enough?" Hermione cautioned. "And, I mean, as small as it may sound in the scheme of big things, we actually do have to keep up with school, so jumbling through legislative language, if it is anything like the legal contracts my parents have to sign sometimes might not be very...easy on our time," she added the last part with more than a bite of sarcasm. "Also how are we going to get a copy of the proposal?"

"Well, all of you are right. And there is a simple solution to that. Neville's grandmother and Sirius occupy the Wizengamot seats. While they cannot give a copy of the proposal to others, they can do so to their immediate family. Now, of course, if there was someone trustworthy for Sirius to do so within the family – and I haven't delved into Black family matters beyond the papers, so I wouldn't know – he could give them the job. I could ask him as well. That should get us two copies."

"And then we could divide the document, mark sections that don't feel right and ask even Professor Dumbledore for clarifications," Hermione piped up, following that train of logic.

"No. The Headmaster cannot know."

"Why?" demanded Ron.

"If he does, then he will be legally bound to take some punitive measures against those that provide us with the copies. Do not forget that he still remains the Chief Warlock, not just our teacher, so he has to uphold the laws of the chamber which dictate that the legislations under debate may not become a part of the public domain in their entirety until they are either passed, or rejected thrice. It is sensible. Some legislations or bills may hamper some vested interests but their overall effect might be for the better, or vice versa. This prevents, in theory, any amount of external pressure upon the members of the Wizengamot as they perform their duties."

"Which is what we are trying to do, essentially," Neville added.

"Doesn't stop us from asking Lupin, though, or Mr. Black or Neville's gran, for that matter," Ron pointed out reasonably.

That brought out a ray of light. It remained to be seen how much it would actually reveal.

* * *

Six hundred and fourteen; that was the cumulative number of clauses and sub-clauses and footnotes and ancillary rules that lay hidden under a mountain of over-polite, over-exaggeratedly carefully phrased legal jargon that made their heads spin. Both Sirius and Augusta Longbottom had come through for them, the latter with a patronising smile which was now explained.

"We are supposed to go through this?" Neville asked weakly, as he baulked at the two inch thick binding that held the sheets of parchment together.

"It's not a particularly enticing prospect is it?" his friend agreed.

"Mastering understatements now, are we?"

"It comes with the territory, you know. We are British."

"So do the words and the contracts," Neville pointed out. "I don't see you exactly celebrating that."

Harry just nodded as he conceded the point.

"If you two are done talking, maybe we can actually get to working through it. And Harry, you read _newspapers_. They're never longer than twenty pages or so. Has anyone of you ever spoken to Madam Pince?" Hermione grumbled.

"Has she ever responded without a scowl to even borrowing a book?"

"Touché," was the grudging response. "Has either of you tried to find all relevant boos, beyond those mentioned? Well there are charms for the maintenance of books and for help around the library."

"So it logically follows that there must be some sort of keyword-based searching spell or something," Harry completed.

"There is a...yes." Hermione looked mildly affronted at being pre-empted. "And there is also a copying spell," she started with a sly smile, only for Harry to point out the obvious.

"You can see the Wizengamot seal of copies – the approved number of copies per member is one and they have to be registered. These copies are charmed to not be copied again by any means – not even manual writing."

"Then how do we write the notes?"

"Beats me," answered Harry. "We cannot be sure of it at all, since the terms are very vague on that account. But given the paucity of time, I would rather not tempt magical logic."

* * *

And so they started delving into the matters. Since for all the posturing similar to non-magical parliaments which most members would forever deny, the Wizengamot was still a magical body, the proposals and copies thereof were self-updating. This meant that all changes being deliberated, or agreed upon in the deliberations upon the matter which went sequentially clause by clause, sub-clause by sub-clause and so on, were available for reference as soon as the motion carried. It was one place where magic held an upper hand – no absent member could complain of not getting the memo, so to speak.

Hermione herself, had a lot to contribute to the matter, as she was able to get the similar definitions for child abuse, neglect and other allied matters, as defined by the NHS, from her parents. They were not intimately involved in the process, but it interested them nonetheless. Since the good doctors were required to attend regular training seminars and such ***** , they generously supplied copious amounts of their own notes on the matter, some supporting, some marking their own observations and some others speaking of fallacies as they saw them, a process that was similar to the one Harry employed. Why it disgruntled Hermione though was a question that would long remain unanswered.

As it was, it was she and Ron who actually had the first two breakthroughs. Corporal punishment by parents remained a fiercely debated topic, but the Prophet seemed to have erred by highlighting the case of Melanie Flowfire. She had the misfortune of being born to moderately poor, pureblood supremacist, jingoistic parents who wanted a male heir. The Cruciatus Curse had been the least of her worries, and she had ultimately committed suicide at the age of fourteen when she became an illegal bit of collateral.

It was of course the extreme case along with some of the ritual-occult abuse like the case in Rochdale documented by the NHS; most people were neither as stupid to abuse so violently and visibly, nor were all of the pureblood supremacist and jingoist people uncaring or unloving parents like Walburga Black (not that the four knew). But it was enough to ensure that not even the smallest thing escaped from the ambit of the law.

"This part would be most effective if modified and brought under a concurrent ambit with a legislative motion for the DMLE," Harry opined. "And more importantly, it would be best if your grandmother was the one who proposed it, Neville."

"What are you talking about?"

"Keeping the matter of the curses within the ambit of the Child Protection Act would limit it. If instead, a Taboo, like the one used against racial abuse was put into place for all three Unforgivables, it would aid more people," he explained, before dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "including those made to do all sorts of horrible things by Voldemort."

With a look of dawning understanding, Neville nodded. "I will write to Gran immediately."

Ron was the one to address the issue of the protection of privacy, and of the people, if the monitoring Nott had wanted went into action.

"See here," he said pointing to the small asterisk which had appeared with an ornate 'G' in superscript. "The House of Greendale has suggested the Unbreakable Vow for the department entrusted with that monitoring. It is like a delayed check. Just because a piece defending the opposing King is not a danger at one move, doesn't mean it won't be one, two moves down the line, or that it can't be switched from defence to attack. Mr. Black has already suggested the Vows as a part of special Ministry procedure. However, nothing stops the people from violating the Vows once they are no longer _in_ the position."

Ron was also expanding his vocabulary.

"I will write to my Gran," Neville promised. "That is actually my Mum's maternal Uncle."

The whole process was engaging for the four, and was an internship of sorts for them. No underage person in magical Britain had at that moment the experience the four were gaining. It was also defining the roles.

Harry, Hermione and Neville searched and explained things to Ron, who actually, it turned out, **_could not_** read or be still for too long. He dealt with minutiae and details like those, as well as being a source of gossip from the working class of magical Britain. More importantly, he was the sounding board for the other three.

Neville had the contacts and with the work helping him build confidence, he was more able than anyone else to carry off the proper comportment as necessary for a higher-class kid.

Hermione was able to find more historical but present-relevant references, while Harry's job was to put together the various points into a finite point A to point B route, with the various feedbacks and effects both up and down the flow of control for each part of the Act as it affected the other parts. And then, like with the Unforgivables, he would give it a twist of his own.

Sirius and Augusta showed their pride in the latter's letters and Sirius' visits. The venerable lady and the public face of the newest player admitted using the inputs from the four during the meetings that were conducted every third day. Inching towards fourteen though the kids were, they were putting quite some effort to actually help their two sponsors, solidifying their own ideas for their future paths.

* * *

While the superficial front of the work to bolster Nott's law and weed out the inconsistencies and flaws generated a sense of excitement among his friends, Harry was not content to leave things ignored.

Coincidences were non-existent. The Azkaban Clinic proposal, the sudden rise and fall of media interest in Sirius' life out of nowhere, and the fact that Nott, a staunch if unspoken opponent of **_Sirius_** and an equally important ally for the House of Black, had brought up the latest legal phenomenon in the country couldn't just coincidentally happen together. That coupled with Dumbledore's belief that everything wasn't on the up and up, as well as Remus' supposition regarding their plan of action for Sirius and him meant only one thing. Something was about to happen. It isn't paranoia if you know people are after you.

So right from the first day that they got the copies, which was the twelfth of March, Harry had done what any self-respecting person in a hurry would do – he started reading the document from the _end_. The sequential process of the debate meant that the library charms were no use while looking at the thing purely from a legislative perspective, but Harry liberally used the spells during the extra hours he spent in a corner of the Common Room after everyone was asleep as he searched for the ways that Sirius could be cornered.

And then he struck gold, the day before Sirius dealt with the adders he had invited into his home, two days later.

It was on the five-hundred-and-twelfth page.

 _"_ _AND WHEREAS it is understood from published research into the matter of psychological and physiological health of long-term prisoners, of the Magical Prison on the Island of Azkaban (ceded to the Ministry of Magic in entirety by the last treaty between the Wizengamot and His Majesty King William III, now known as the Statute of Secrecy) is severely compromised by prolonged Dementor exposure;_

 _"_ _AND WHEREAS, such a compromised state of health is considered suitable reason to believe that child-care is not within the scope of the abilities of such compromised individuals;_

 _"_ _AND WHEREAS, no control can be expressly exercised over the birthing of biological children, pursuant to the Family Provision Act, 1982;_

 _"_ _AND WHEREAS, such long-term stay is to be considered proof of serious criminal behaviour on part of the prisoner;_

 _"_ _IT IS RECOMMENDED that the care of any child should not be otherwise awarded or assumed by the prisoner upon release without due investigation and satisfaction of an impartial healing body, with any repeated appeal to be considered only after a period of three years."_

In short, they intended to prove that Sirius was mentally unhealthy, and unsuitable for assuming Harry's guardianship. He was nearly fourteen. It was a no-brainer that Sirius' first attempt would be rejected somehow. By the time he could appeal again, Harry would already be an adult.

But they had caught them in a pair of scissors, and the other sharp edge was one that needed to be in place – a system to ensure that magical children were not neglected or abused in non-magical homes. Even that was riddled with a glaring inconsistency. Situations like his and Dudley's were not the norm – often when one child is abused, the others are also at a similar risk. Would the law break apart families and allow non-magical children to be continued to be abused?

That sort of a situation **_needed_** to be brought to light. Just because it became a way to get to him for the likes of Malfoy and Nott did not mean that he would be selfish and want the needed clause scrapped, **_if_** he could.

So that meant there was an urgent need of a solution. Two points stood out – the impartial healing body, and the idea that long-term residence in Azkaban was proof of criminality.

That was enough to work with for the time-being.

* * *

"Yes, I can quite see how you have reached the conclusion," Dumbledore agreed as he spoke to Sirius. Both men knew that the other knew that they knew that Sirius was not the one who had found it. This was plausible deniability at its best. "And I must agree also that it is not erroneous in the least. This must be the work of Gareth Selwyn himself. A very clever man, a true Slytherin, he has always known how to obfuscate matters and hide where he shouldn't lie. He has cleverly hidden this in volume and in a largely well-scripted document, one that finds fewer opponents as each day passes."

He popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and sucked it with a frown at the document. Then he peered at Sirius with twinkling eyes over his half-moon glasses. "Have you given any thought as to what can be done?"

Sirius knew better than to giving into naming the person who recommended the course of action as he replied, "There must be some International Council of Wizards certified hospitals of magical maladies, under the International Magical Health Organisation? And as St. Mungo's is technically independent of the Ministry, so must the IMHO be? Would it be possible to obtain references to or contacts of such a clinic or hospital, preferably outside of the UK? Surely that would suit the impartiality clause?"

Dumbledore smiled brightly. "That it would," he said. Then he became solemnly curious. "What do you intend to do otherwise?" at Sirius' frown he clarified, "What stand do you mean to take regarding this Bill?"

"I intend to support it. Once we are able to uproot any hidden agendas and make it cleaner, I want this to be an Act. You know how it was for me, and how I ended up at James'. And Harry represents the other end of the argument with bad muggle guardians. W- I do not want any other child to suffer that. And I intend to make a donation towards a paediatric hospital soon after the Bill is passed. This is an opportunity to do something good."

Dumbledore nodded, pleased. "I shall owl you the details soon," he promised in polite dismissal.

* * *

Soon after the second Special Wizengamot session for the CPA, as the Child Protection Act was called for short, (even though it wasn't actually an Act of Law yet), Sirius hurried away to Obsidian Gardens where Andy, that Wizard she'd married and their daughter, Nymphadora, the metamorphmagus and his favourite niece (technically cousin, but he had always imagined Andy as his older sister) waited.

He still didn't like that Tonks bloke. He was still five years short of the quota of torment to be meted to the man that he had allocated to himself. Tonks, the one muggleborn Sirius did not like because he had married and taken away his favourite cousin, was going to have it all soon. Sirius could have cackled with glee.

But that was later. Even on the list of people he didn't like, Tonks was very low. He was opening his house to people he _hated_.

"Do you want us to be there from the start?" Andromeda asked as he returned sat and watched as she ordered the pair of elves with more kindness than ever seen from the House of Black.

"I want you to be there, yes. But if you can do that snooty-face thing that you did better than Cissy and arrive five minutes late, fashionably, and put down any comments with that glaring thing you do and with a dry comment..."

"Why don't you just say you want to see me tweak Lucius' nose?" Andromeda drily commented cutting off Sirius' dream sequence.

"Well, yes, you could do that," he admitted sheepishly. "But then if you are here before Lucius comes, and sit close to me, we can simply make it seem like a message that you have been a part of the House of Black before he was even there on the scene."

"I suppose the ideal thing to do would be to coordinate with Madam Longbottom and arrive at the same time she does if you choose the former option," Edward 'Ted' Tonks spoke in his measured tone. He was a thick-set man, who, with his almost ruddy face, sideburns, moustache and slight bald patch, looked perfectly like an English gentleman of yore in his fitted suit.

"Ditching my cousin for older ladies, are you?"

"You were such a good kid when I taught you to ride a bicycle and the motorbike you are so proud of..." Ted reminisced in a weary voice.

Sirius clammed up.

"Boys," Andromeda scolded. Sirius was stretching things a bit too far.

"Mother?" asked Nymphadora Tonks as she peeped in, looking like her maternal grandmother and her mother, but mostly, her deceased aunt – her true look – for the day. It was a no-brainer as to why she chose to look as unalike her true form. "Did Cousin Sirius return?"

"I did formally-speaking cousin Dora. Are you an Auror today or my little cousin?"

"I am an Auror, who is your cousin, who is an Auror. So I am being very formal."

Unable as he was to make any sense of that whatsoever, Sirius wisely stayed quiet. She was Andromeda's girl. Only a fool asked too many questions to those two. The youngest Tonks grinned.

"Just don't act pureblood-like. I like you Nymphadora," Sirius teased, absently dodging the stinging hex he knew would come and which ended up hitting his attacker's father on his hand. "I want you as a part of House Black, not some copy of a dead harridan, or even of your mum."

This time Tonks' grin was entirely genuine. She had one relative from her mum's side that she really liked.

"Can you think of the shock my dear aunt would have if she saw her dead mother sitting at the table?" she slyly asked, though she cast an apologetic look towards her mother. The dead woman in question was Tonks' own grandmother, after all.

Sirius whooped happily as he declared, "I knew you were my favourite relative for a reason!"

Andromeda just rolled her eyes.

* * *

Three hours later, Andromeda was sitting to Sirius' right and her husband to her right as the guests started filing in. Augusta Longbottom, Edmund Bones, George Wolfe, Shannon Fawley and Charles Shacklebolt, the five heads or caretakers of the five new allies, were present within the first minute of the intimated time.

Each House was one of the specialists of their chosen fields. The Longbottoms were agriculturists. The Boneses had transitioned to bureaucratic processes from their early history of being the executioners for the royal court.

The Fawleys were an old mercantile line, as old as the Shacklebolts who specialised in International trade were. The latter were almost removed from the list of the 'Sacred" because of the interracial marriages that Charles' father and his father had both had, by manner of " _popular demand_ " (just like Dumbledore was to be sacked for the Chamber of Secrets debacle by the Board of Governors " _unanimously_ "). That was till the other "Sacred" families learnt that the Shacklebolts couldn't care less if they tried, and also that they were still rich enough to warrant attention. Charles' brother, Kingsley, was a senior Auror.

The Wolfes were into broadcasting, and ran three of the most popular channels on the Wizarding Wireless. George had done a stint as a newsreader, Quidditch commentator, talk-show host and such, before relinquishing the handling of the family businesses to his younger brother who was a certified chatterbox.

As it was, since they were ready for what was to come and were early, after the initial introductions, George Wolfe with permission cast a speciality spell which made people not part of any discussion hear mundane conversation if they tried to eavesdrop.

"Have they responded?"

"They did," Sirius confirmed.

"Do you think they will come though?" asked Ted Tonks.

"They will, or they risk my public displeasure. I am suddenly important right now, you know," Sirius replied with a disgruntled sneer. "And there have been steps to ensure that they are not sure whether to dissociate me from the old House of Black edicts or to keep me to it."

"And are you?" asked Fawley, lightly but slyly.

"As Sirius Black I look for honourable, respectable people who may or may not agree with my views, to be my friends," Sirius answered solemnly. "And if those of my friends that can agree with me often are my allies, as you all are, I consider myself to be very honoured. While I wouldn't otherwise say this out loud, I suppose, in present company it will not be an onerous admission. I do look up to all of you in certain ways, and like Lily Potter told me once, under starkly different circumstances and rather vociferously, I might add, I keep trying to understand what you say and mean and thereby enrich myself with your experiences."

"Taking speaking lessons from Dumbledore now, are we?" Charles Shacklebolt ribbed. He was just about ten years Sirius' senior and the closest of the group to the younger man's age.

"I don't see how that would be time ill-spent," Sirius blithely replied, though he couldn't quite pull off the "twinkle-in-the-eye" thing Dumbledore did. It got him a few laughs, and put him in his element.

"Seriously speaking though, what have you planned about the CPA, if Nott asks about it? I mean, there seems to be an unspoken haste to get that passed, and it worries me," Augusta admitted.

"I am going to be supportive. The ideal case of the CPA actually doing what we would like it to do is something we can manage through discussions and corrections, but that is what the Wizengamot is for, right? We can hardly be obstacles in the path of such a necessary piece of legal activity. The most we can do is moderate some instances that we may feel extreme." His face took a distant look as he added, "This is important, and should cut across any lines of beliefs. No child should be hurt."

He portrayed such wide-eyed innocence, that even his allies believed him. That was crucial. He had been stung by Peter Pettigrew and his betrayal once; once bitten, twice shy and all that was truly applicable when he didn't truly know these people all too well. He was not going to reveal what Harry had found just a couple of days before; not when the boy had not even let anyone but Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus know that he was even searching from that angle.

It was also the right thing to say to Augusta Longbottom, a woman who had known Walburga Black, and could therefore imagine her disciplinary methods for her wayward non-bigot of a son.

The carefully set tea party at half-past-four that afternoon was in the pleasant gardens of the Obsidian Gardens estate with the Tudor-built Manor in the backdrop. It was as stately as it got in the magical world.

And rest of the allies were beginning to trickle in, only just slightly late, about two to three minutes later. It was rude, really, considering that they weren't family, but Sirius greeted them all graciously and welcomed them while imagining their anger when Harry's plan reached its final stages.

* * *

 ** _The Musings of Gareth Selwyn_**

* * *

Gareth Selwyn had only come to the place once before, when he was only the heir to the name. He had marvelled at the simple grandeur. The Blacks were always strong, and his father had a healthy amount of respect, and if he cared to look at it objectively, harboured envy as well, for the most famous pure-blood family. They were regal without needing to show it, effortlessly becoming leaders without excessive show and pomp. Even the Seat, Obsidian Gardens, was almost... royal ...in its bearing without the ostentatious displays he saw elsewhere (cough*albino peacocks*cough). The Blacks and the place and their power belonged with each other.

Where there was once the craze of grey silk hair ribbons to tie back long hair for the heirs, the people putting on airs, random honour duels, sudden ways of getting insulted and the ego, and bowing and what not in the mid-nineteenth century, the Blacks had eschewed all that and trodden their own paths, while staying true to their beliefs of the rule of the pure-blood. Grudgingly though it was, he could admit that Sirius Black was cut from the same cloth.

It also did not hurt that the Blacks had the power, the will, ruthlessness and cleverness, knowledge of the Dark Arts and inventiveness as well to back their way. Speaking of duels, they had won more duels that other foolish Houses foisted on them than many had even fought, let alone won, and then gone on to annihilate the poor fools who dared. They were feared with good reason.

Gareth had been young and foolish when he entered the service of the Dark Lord. While he had been freed by the rule of gold, he had actually seen his faults. No, not in his beliefs; in the ways that he had chosen to go about enforcing them by choosing to bow to the Dark Lord, unlike the Blacks.

The Blacks had not felt the need to be the first aggressors, and indeed, even for the Dark Lord, it wasn't until the Lestranges had pushed Bellatrix to bear the mark, followed by the Malfoys doing the same for Narcissa, that the Dark Lord had gained the family he coveted. Even then, young Regulus Black had been the one Death Eater that the Dark Lord had never cursed, and treated with indifference bordering on respect, unlike the others that were treated with disdain and contempt.

He had since come to his very different conclusions. The Lestranges and Malfoys had both sought to subjugate the House of Black with their lofty ambitions and, dare he say it, some amount of cunning. Yet the former lay annihilated, while the latter was ousted from positions that it had sought to usurp.

Gareth was far from stupid. He was not going to antagonise Sirius Black, though he would not lament if he was removed from their path, a dark horse if there ever was one. He knew to respect a man who emerged from Azkaban, slightly beaten, but not broken. Though he had done what Lucius wanted, it was his test for the young Head of House Black. If he emerged unscathed, it was Lucius who would bear the consequences, for there would be ways to ensure that Black, with his grown power could be pacified by sacrificing Malfoy. If Black lost, it wouldn't matter anyway.

He observed them all, and interestingly, found Lucius wanting. The most telling fact was the presence of Andromeda Tonks – not Narcissa. Andromeda had married the mudblood, been therefore cast out of the family, and had begotten a rare, gifted witch as a child. She was sitting _next to_ Black. She was sitting in the place reserved for the senior-most member of the family who wasn't the Head. He also didn't miss the way that the daughter (and didn't she look frightfully like Druella Black, Bellatrix and Andromeda?) glowered at and caused the Malfoys to flinch.

Then there were the other people at the table. Irrespective of _Sirius_ Black's personal stand on the matter, between Black, Longbottom, Nott, himself, Malfoy, Parkinson, Fawley, Shacklebolt, Parkinson and Yaxley, there were nine of the twenty-six remaining members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight at the table. And yet there was the mudblood husband of Andromeda Tonks as well. Perhaps it was because of the daughter? Then perhaps it was power, and not blood that the new Head of Black respected? He was left with more questions than answers, even before a word had been spoken, and that was a good thing.

There was change coming. The House of Selwyn would weather it and emerge as a rightful leader. Gareth would have nothing else.

* * *

 ** _End of sub-piece_**

* * *

As the guests were all seated, and were served their personal favourite brands of tea (Dobby was a gift; he knew it for all the 'old' allies. The elf was quite keen to be bonded to Harry and was extremely loyal to the people who treated him extremely well) in muted but beautiful china, Sirius quite enjoyed the expressions of discomfiture as the guests found that they were pegged.

The table was well-set with finger smoked salmon and avocado sandwiches on one understatedly elegant platter and crab on another, teacakes and scones, jam and clotted cream, and while not such a spread as to make it seem wasteful, there would be enough for a two-hour chat.

Solemnly (but not so solemnly as to make it seem funereal) Sirius stood to speak. "It is with a warm heart that I welcome you all to this gathering, an august gathering that truly humbles me. This place has lain bereft of such company for thirteen long years since my father's passing. A lot has changed in that time, and few that should be amongst us, no longer can.

"Importantly, though, we find again many who had ties of close friendship with the House of Black here, and I thank you for attending. In my younger, rasher days, I was known as a man of action. Irrespective of that opinion, the truth remains that I have always judged people by their actions as well." There were several uncomfortable shifts as people wondered about the meaning. "That you chose to support justice when I finally received a trial, and have chosen to honour my request tells me that you have not forgotten the bonds that my forefathers and yours forged, and which I intend to strengthen.

"Yet, for all that the old must be preserved, we must bolster it with the new, and the new friends that we see seated here today," he gesture with a wave of his hand towards the 'new allies', "represent the new bonds that we shall forge. I welcome you to this table. May this meeting be the first of many; and so many that the end shall never be in sight!" he declared.

There was a polite chorus of "Hear, hear!"

"I stand here to assure you, that the House of Black shall not be found wanting in its dealings in accordance with its sacred word of friendship – nor indeed of kinship. It is with that intent that I announce with great pleasure the reinstatement of Andromeda Tonks nee Black, daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black, to the Black family, the affiliation of the wizard, Edward Tonks, to the House of Black, as well as the recognition of their daughter, Auror Nymphadora Tonks as a daughter of House Black."

He beamed at the gathering imperiously – the Malfoy-led faction was forced into polite applause.

"I shall speak no more now, but beg of you this. As I take my steps in the Wizengamot to help uphold our laws and protect our world, I shall look to all of you, and learn, for a wise woman once told me that the one who stops learning, stops living. Thank you."

At this juncture, Gareth felt compelled to speak. He tapped his spoon softly on his cup to draw attention, and then rose to speak. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I beg your audience after our gracious host's warm words of welcome. I wish merely to be the first to offer both my commiserations for his suffering that we shall no more allude to on this occasion, and also my congratulations upon his well-regained freedom. To Sirius Black, survivor, and a brave honourable man," he toasted and raised his cup of tea.

Sirius simply chuckled and gave a short nod of thanks to them all as the toast was carried. He made note of the incident though. Selwyn was the one most likely to make an overture. He and his godson, who was set upon a wider scope of issues to address, had come to the realisation that retrospective trials were never going to happen, and also that it made better sense to crush these people under various sorts of debts instead. Just as Dobby had been useful in getting information on Umbridge the underhanded way, he had been a treasure trove of information that he had overheard. They wouldn't risk sending him on investigative missions, but they would use what he could remember and they could verify.

If nothing else, they were going to make the option of rejoining Voldemort as loyal Death Eaters untenable for these people. It was only the methods they disagreed upon. Sirius wished to keep an illusion of the status quo. Harry seemed to disagree. And after what he had found as far as the way to target them in the new legislative proposal, he could see the merits of Harry's intent to subjugate them, especially in light of Dumbledore's guess as to the writer of the Bill's content.

All through the remnant of the gathering, the guests mingled and spoke politely with each other as the situation demanded. While the Tonkses were given a wide berth as expected by the other old Black allies, Narcissa did cast wistful glances at her sister, unable to muster the courage to speak after the harsh words they had exchanged the last time they met. George Wolfe, in true form, spoke to one and all. He was in his element.

Sirius too made sure that he exchanged pleasantries with everyone personally. There was obviously no likelihood of small talk otherwise.

By all parameters, this was an evening planned to stamp Sirius' authority as the Head of House Black. That was certainly achieved, with several witnesses.

* * *

"Is there a reason you are casting pitying glances at Malfoy?" Remus asked after class.

"Yes. I told you and Sirius that I had a plan. It's not one that I am comfortable with, but well..."

"And why are you doing it if you aren't comfortable with it?"

"It is not exactly a good thing to do. But it is like the "No First Attack" policy some nations have for their Nuclear Programmes. It wouldn't be used unless they did it first."

"How does pitying Malfoy factor into it?"

"Well, for one Sirius has a couple of **_our_** recommendations, regarding terrorist attacks aimed at children. For another, it is easy to goad the little smarmy git. They tried to attack our family. I wonder what they might feel when we reverse the trap and attack their family beliefs?"

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just keep it outside the classroom."

* * *

 ***** I presume that there is such training. I do not know for sure.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Expose – II (Words and Doubts)**

Thanks to all followers, favouriteers, readers and reviewers: EP (guest), alix33, mwinter1, Rori Potter, CoolFanfictionLover, Harriverse, jadely31, Yana5, Arkhen, ArtimuousJackson, DarkRavie, Boby335.

Now, with the stage set, we shift back to Harry's shenanigans. The rather obscure and vague description, or rather the complete lack, of what Harry is doing which remains hidden from the rest is very intentional. This chapter is the first in a group of three that brings about Malfoy's downfall.

By the way, I just did a self-promotion on Reddit (though I have no idea if it works) as Harmonious_Cannons. If nothing else, I just hope to draw in some more readers.

* * *

"It's not good, Harry," Hermione softly protested, though she wasn't completely convinced why 'it' wasn't good, or so her tone depicted anyway. She was all for restraint in the spirit of Lent, even a couple of weeks after Easter.

"It isn't. But then sometimes we have to do things that are not good before either side is forced to do, or voluntary does, bad things. And compared to the bad things he has already done, and we know what he can coerce or convince his son to do, a strong conclusive retaliation is the only answer."

"But it is a question of families."

"That's exactly my point."

Hermione had an uncomfortable look at that still. It was a good thing. Even in his limited experience, there were people he would seek the opinion of, purely because it would be too easy to get carried away and then lost, and do something that would seem a great idea, but would actually be a terrible thing to do, especially if poorly thought out or incompletely planned.

Someone to constructively criticise; someone to inhibit anything that could end up being wanton or simply put, bad; and yet someone who'd keep his secrets and understand that he would do things to change things for the better but could make mistakes and gently correct or counter them – that was someone he wanted around him. Dumbledore, of course, was one. Moony was too. And Hermione was quite similar in that regard.

Sirius, though, would take time. The man didn't trust himself enough yet. He was at least amenable to suggestions, and had taken on-board the one regarding the ICW-affiliated Healers post-haste. Surprisingly enough, or perhaps not really surprisingly, he was certified as a person fit to be awarded custody of children above the age of seven, an age where a certain degree of understanding was expected from the child in question also. It was reflected in his lightened mood a lot.

Coming back to the confrontational step that was being planned, it had actually been kept as a last resort. It had been carefully planned, internally deliberated upon. And he had been convinced of it enough to try convincing others.

"If it makes you feel better, then consider this. We know what the actual objective of the muggle-born monitoring is, though Sirius and Neville's grandmother are helping the efforts to correct that. They are going after, as Malfoy likes to gloat, the 'wrong type of families'. This comes into action only after they started this."

"That they did," she conceded.

And there was no way that she could argue against that. She could easily imagine the law being used to tear apart families, especially muggle ones, on fabricated evidence. After all, in spite of people like Dumbledore controlling the flow of discussion now, the idea of muggle-hunting had actually been discussed in that Hall in the not-so-distant past.

"What do we do?" asked Ron. "Do we say ...?"

"Nothing to them, directly," Harry decisively pre-empted. "But well, you three are my best friends," he continued with a voice dripping with confused innocence. "Who else would I talk to at school, but you three? I mean, I can... _privately_...share anything with you, right?"

Neville audibly gulped. "I am really, really glad that you're on our side, mate. You really are a conniving, cold, cold man who's dead inside."

Their friend's answering grin unsettled the three youngsters.

"Don't worry. We are here in mid-April, and we need worry only till the next Wizengamot session. That is actually when the Lestrange Vaults' dispute is scheduled to be heard for the first time. Thereafter, things may become...extra-judicial, and I assure you, you won't be anywhere around that."

The three new followers were unsure whether to be miffed at or relieved by this pronouncement. But then on balance, they decided relief was the better option.

The operation was a go.

The opposite side was willing to do something terrible, was _eager_ to do something terrible under the garb of a step forward in the right direction. They would have to be the muck that that step forward encountered, and splattered them with.

* * *

Perhaps it was to be expected from the newest protégé of Dumbledore. The venerable gentleman of magical politics had the knack of having seven cards in his hand with two of them aces while the rest of the table was dealt four. But then it was not just the skill of having those cards, but that of knowing when – or whether – to play them that made Dumbledore particularly powerful.

And these things are not taught; they are observed and imbibed within oneself, which was what Harry had done. Sure, Dumbledore was actively discussing things with him and occasionally explaining things outright, but some things remained of the type that needing an explanation regarding them made one unworthy to dabble with them.

Harry only had one extra card up his sleeve, but that was still an ace, and he was hiding it even from his associates. This card, or rather, asset, was Dobby. He used this card to peep into the deck that the others held. Even as he used it, Harry was disgusted by what he was doing. Sure, he could claim that the ends justified the means, yet there remained enough apprehension about what he was doing to prevent him from truly being convinced about it.

It also told him some unsavoury things about himself. He was willing to take dubious steps that his conscience rebelled against if it was for a higher purpose than a personal quest for power, for a purpose that would serve the betterment of people. He was able to silence his inner voice, if needed. Never more than then did he realise the need for confidantes, people who would be most intimately trusted, and would pull him back if he ever did go overboard.

Never more, did he find that the wrong thing was right, and sometimes, it became the right thing to do instead of the truly right and therefore easy thing to do.

"Is Harry Potter sir being free?" Dobby urgently asked as he tugged at Harry's sleeve.

"Yes Dobby."

Dobby deposited his latest acquisitions.

With a wave of Harry's wand, these acquisitions were processed and sampled. "You are doing a wonderful job, Dobby," Harry praised. It was important to recognise every contribution; it engendered loyalty. One could never have enough of it. And praising Dobby for a job well done was no onerous task. "Thank you. I doubt my plans would work without your help."

Dobby beamed and popped away wordlessly. He was still unable to deal with praise.

* * *

As he had started, the rest followed. Even Ron, once he understood how it would be useful to bring down the monster that was Lucius Malfoy promptly jumped on board.

Every time that they saw Draco Malfoy, the perplexed Slytherin was the recipient of pitying gazes, almost sorrowfully so. Ever since the day after Halloween, the idea that he had lost against a Hippogriff had waned his star, so to speak, so he seldom actively attempted any antagonistic overtures against his self-claimed Gryffindor nemesis – a nemesis that had been claimed by Draco himself.

Lucius Malfoy hadn't been best pleased with how easily his plan to involve himself in Hogwarts matters after being ousted as a Governor had been foiled. Draco had been reprimanded for his failure, when in truth the boy was, as always, his father's pawn.

Initially, it was for just over three days.

Then they started with the comments meant for Draco to eavesdrop.

"I know we don't like him, but, what will happen to...?" Neville wondered.

"Draco?" completed Harry knowingly. "I don't know. But we have an obligation after all."

"That is true. But he is just foolish. I don't know whether he should be held accountable because of what he said and, you know, his..."

"Thankfully that decision is not in our hands."

They were a safe distance away when Ron and Hermione came upon them.

"The git scurried away to the Slytherin dorms," Ron reported.

"So a letter will soon be flying home. After all, "When his father hears of this...""

They shared a quiet snigger at that.

* * *

Over the period of time till April ended and the session loomed upon the horizon, the targets changed. Now it was the likes of Nott, Chrysanthemum Rosier, and Laura Jugson, along with Marcus Flint. There were others related to Death Eaters, obviously, but these were the ones related to the lynchpins of the group that directed most of the politics, or the henchmen of said lynchpins.

For all that they showed the world a united stance, there had to be cracks that were papered over by people like Gareth Selwyn, a man who had garnered Harry's interest. And if there weren't any, it was just the task of finding the weak point and hammering away till they developed.

There was nothing to be said about the other relatives of the Death Eaters. Everything had to revolve around one family, exclusively.

"Why don't we make it seem as if we know more about the rest of them and get them all to fight?" Hermione had asked. Such questions were asked behind the safety of the walls of Gryffindor tower, bolstered further by the secrecy spells Harry had learnt.

"Do you understand why we are doing this?"

"To bring about some form of visible division amongst them..."

"No," Harry replied with a grin. It wasn't often that anyone got to correct Hermione, but he had had the honour often recently. "We are going to give them a scapegoat. And we are going to give them a way to seem united, while ensuring that they all distrust each other."

"But we will know that they can't be united if they distrust each other," she objected, perplexed. This wasn't like academics where there was a definite start and end defined. Everything seemed counterintuitive.

"Exactly," agreed Harry as his grin widened. "We shall know that they aren't truly united, and they will know that we know, that is to say, Sirius knows. Yet, he is attempting to keep the alliance safe, and he is after all, just the stupid Black who wasn't even fit for his ancestors' house. As if that even matters," Harry added with a scoff. He saw her incredulous face at the pronouncement and clarified, "He's heard taunts to that effect in the Wizengamot. No really, grown men and women are still fixated on Houses."

"That's stupid," she protested incredulously.

"And I shall keep thanking them for it. Such stupidity is a gift; never wish otherwise when presented with it on a platter."

"What's all this talk of houses got to do with your plan anyway?"

"Nothing, we just meandered. The point is, as I meant to say, that they will have added incentive to appear friendly enough towards Sirius for some more time."

"More time to plan and plot against him, you mean."

"But more time during which some can be swayed to Sirius' side as well," Harry countered. "He has to establish authority, his leadership over the rest of them. Never forget the bigger picture. By sacrificing one of their own, they make their position with Voldemort, should he return, very...difficult, to say the least. And Sirius will openly stand against Voldemort, obviously, so they are torn between loyalties, betrayal, and an unforgiving Sirius Black to whom they will owe enough for exposing a very great betrayal. If nothing else, they will slink away into silence and let things happen before they figure out which way the wind shall blow."

"But then they aren't really innocent either," Ron objected.

"They aren't. But what shall be more useful – control over their future actions and that of their descendents, or a foolhardy attempt at retrospective punishment that will not actually happen but will engender ill-will instead? Remember, Malfoy is the target simply because his crime is the most recent and unexposed. He gave the chance that anyone else could have."

"You are looking at the forest, and it is a dark one, but you only intend to chop down one tree," cautioned Neville, always the one to speak last, least and with a healthy amount of paranoia. "Don't forget the trees and fixate upon the bigger picture only."

"Indeed not! We must only shed enough light as to burn away the Devil's Snare that grows among the remains. The forest can't and shouldn't be cut down, but it can be pruned. That shall prove a strong threat and proof of action."

"If you're sure..."

"I am."

"Then that is great. I just fear retaliation."

Harry nodded in acceptance of the caution. Neville was a bean-counter. Every team ever needed an honest pessimist, a questioner, a sounding board, an optimist and a realist/planner. They only were short an optimist, as Hermione already filled the role of the one who constantly questioned and Ron was an excellent sounding board.

So it was that soon, Theodore Nott happened to hear Potter talk about his family. So entrenched they were in the idea of succession, of protocol, of who seemed allied, of who supported what, that the young boy – for that was what he was – didn't even entertain the idea of wondering why Potter and Longbottom would talk about such matters in school, a place which was supposed to be politically inviolate. Then again, knowing that it was their fathers who were flouting that particular code, it was not surprising that they would assume everyone else would too.

"Sirius thinks that he has to impress upon people like the Notts, Selwyns and the others that he is serious about restoring their alliance, even though he has a new one with your gran," Potter seriously explained in a whisper. Theodore didn't realise that it wasn't much of a whisper to start with.

"But they're re..." Longbottom stopped, and looked around furtively. Theodore slunk behind an armoured knight as Longbottom's voice dropped when he compared the word, "related."

"And yet some things are beyond the pale. I mean, that horrible git violated tenets of humanity, never mind ties of friendship."

"What if they tell him?"

"It's their loss. Sirius, as I said, is committed to the alliance. He said something about truth being the best promise and gift he had to give." Potter said with a shrug. "It's not as if I understand much. I don't even know whether I should even talk about it, but as I said, I don't understand..."

"And it is my gran with whom he has an alliance, and we are friends," Longbottom completed.

"Yes, so I hoped you could tell me something if it meant anything to you."

Theo read too much into it, as he decide that Potter was making a very clever ambiguous statement – he could mean that Longbottom would explain if the alliance meant anything to him, instead of the simple and obvious plea for explanation about the meaning of whatever Black had told him but not explained. But then no; Potter was a rash and trusted his friends. And the Gryffindors never really learnt the difference between the meaning s of the words, "friends" and "allies." He was overestimating Potter.

Father would be proud to have him find out Black's secrets, really. If Potter wanted things to remain secrets, he should have used magic instead of relying on whispers in the halls where sound carried. Not that Nott actually thought of the true implications of the sound carrying, or of the fact that somehow, they were the only three people there at the time, though the particular corridor was never truly busy, but well.

"Obviously," ribbed Longbottom. "You need Hermione to explain school stuff to you. This is way above your station mate."

Potter poked an elbow into Longbottom's gut before running off childishly with the sound of whistling trains, as Theodore Nott was left to ponder what that all was about.

For a boy who prided himself for his cunning and understanding of situations (because his father always said so proudly) it didn't take much time for Theo to work out who they were talking of. Technically, Black could claim relationship with any number of purebloods, but when they narrowed down to friendship and talks of alliance and everything else, the name left was very obvious – Malfoy.

Malfoy had done something very bad, obviously. Something so bad, that it violated the alliance between him and Theo's father – and Malfoy and Black. Somehow, instead of worrying him, it brought a grin to the boy's face. This was the chance he was looking for. He hated the little bastard who always smugly claimed that he was the Heir to the Black fortune, till Black had come along, himself. That he was expected to be on good terms with Draco Malfoy for that reason angered him beyond reason, but he had persevered. And now he had a chance to ensure that he wouldn't have to.

Of course, there was no use having father break the alliance; that was stupid. If instead he could find out more and warn father, then father would be able to hold it over Malfoy and assert his own power over them. Ally to minion seemed a neat demotion, really. He decided to wait and watch and listen, as he always did. Till then, he would catalogue all of the little things Malfoy did so as to hold it over the git himself, while keeping up the act of being forced into friendship. Malfoy would never be satisfied if he actually acted like a friend, for then the little bastard would never get to lord it over him.

* * *

But it would have been too obvious, if it was always Harry speaking of things he had spoken about with Sirius. So as Harry had to put into practice a lesson he had learnt several months before – employing the services of good people through various means.

Poor Draco was, therefore, the unfortunate recipient of the Weasley Twins' pranks for over two weeks. None were vicious, as they could have easily been, given why they needed to be pulled. Instead, they were designed only to needle Draco and to draw him into speaking stupidly and ranting, and generally to make him seem unhinged, till he, one day, threatened the "worthless Weasley blood-traitor bastards and all you mudbloods with a fate worse than what my father had in store for you last year".

Draco immediately shut up, but the damage was done. The pranks subsided, soon. It was not a good thing to do, but Draco had shown that he revelled in the idea of murdering the muggle-born. He was not really collateral damage. Stupidity was neither a good enough reason nor a credible excuse.

The silent observers, like Laura Jugson and her cousin, Chrysanthemum Rosier, as well as Nott, were vigilant enough to make connections with the threat and the incidents of the Chamber of Secrets. Some things were not adding up correctly, and with the intended effect, it worried them all.

* * *

The true reason for goading Draco, the greatest weakness of Lucius Malfoy, was to force that odious man into making either mistakes or taking desperate steps.

Sirius had taken a leaf out of Mad-Eye Moody's book and therefore his personal paranoia was at a height to ensure that the desperate measures didn't include physical harm, possibly with fatal intent, being inflicted upon him by either Malfoy himself (extremely unlikely) or someone in his employ. The Tonkses had been coerced into similar measures by Sirius. Andromeda Tonks, as always, playing the role of the long-sufferingly indulgent older sister, acquiesced.

The retribution was coming. Harry knew it. He had incontrovertible proof on that account, proof that Dobby was so painstakingly collecting, as he kept a close eye on young Draco. Retribution, in the form of physical harm, was certainly within the ambit of Lucius Malfoy's set of responses. It just was too obvious.

* * *

"I gather, from this gathering, that you believe this is time to take the next step?" Jugson needed only a raised eyebrow to establish the fact that he believed that such a step was an exercise in futility and stupidity. "Do you not think that this is fairly early?"

Lucius was pouring them all drinks himself, an act which in itself was alarming. Then again, the spike of paranoia of passed over quickly. Everyone knew that they were here. Lucius could hardly risk murdering them. Nott and Jugson exchanged a glance. Both had been intimated about the questionable things Lucius had probably indulged in and which would be probably exposed to them by Black. Thankfully, Theo, Laura and little Chrysanthemum had kept very silent about it.

Neither of them, not for one little moment, entertained the idea that the few times that the kids had overheard Potter or Longbottom was by design.

"Now, now, Sol, Demetrius," Lucius chid patronisingly, "Do try and keep up. Our objective was to keep Black occupied enough with the legislation for one thing, and then to blindside him, was it not?"

"That it was, Lucius," Nott agreed with a sneer. "However, I believe, in retrospect, that – given the kind of advice Black seems to be getting – this ploy is juvenile and weak."

"I didn't hear your protests to that effect before, Demetrius, when we, together hatched this plan?"

"At the time, we had not taken into account Black being either willing enough to bring together all sides to one table, or willing to act on advice given to that effect. Either way, Lucius, Black is not stupid. If you persist with this underestimation of Black, let it be at your risk. I refuse to abide," Jugson argued in Nott's support.

"Demetrius and Sol make a very important point there, Lucius, you have to agree," Gareth Selwyn temporised. "When we intended to trap Black, we were assuming responses very different to the ones we have thus far received. It would only be prudent to adapt, instead of letting things fall flat because Black is not acting according to – as you so wisely reminded us – _our_ plan."

Selwyn was working to cool tempers while also reminding everyone that the responsibilities were shared – so as to not isolate Lucius – while also reminding the latter that the executive powers over important decision were to be shared also.

"What exactly should we do then?" demanded Lucius.

Nott and Jugson exchanged glances. This added credibility to the accusations Black apparently intended to make, if what their children had overheard. Normally they would have both sat back and observed without ever letting the other know of such an incident, but Laura and Theodore had discussed the matter, thereby obviating such a course of action on behalf of their parents.

"Well, to catch Black in the proverbial pair of scissors, you need to have at least one blade in place," Selwyn mildly rebuked. "I distinctly remember the clauses written into the document with precisely this in mind. Has the discussion reached that point?" he rhetorically asked.

"It shall, this week," Malfoy presumed to order them.

He received a very faintly raised eyebrow in response.

"Shall it now?"

"Yes," Malfoy persisted with cold crispness. "I suppose you are all enjoying the deliberations, but the deadline for both Black to file his papers for Potter's custody, and for him to apply for the Lestrange vaults are upon us."

"And again, Lucius, let me remind you, that technically, those are your problems, and not ours," Jugson snidely reminded.

That certainly disarmed Lucius.

"You do stand to gain..."

"...a one-time, probably paltry, monetary recompense," Jugson completed. "Yes. If we move too fast, the profits shall not outstrip the efforts."

Lucius grit his teeth and ground them, while attempting to reign in the utmost loathing he felt for his peers in that moment.

"So what, my dear friends, would your esteemed selves advise me to do, as the 10th of May looms on the horizon?"

No answers were forthcoming.

"I thought so," Lucius sneered. "We must progress as planned."

As the meeting broke, Nott only muttered to Jugson, "One would think with such stellar investments as the Minister himself, Lucius would try and pre-empt the tribunal jury, about the easiest thing for him to do on such short notice, and well..."

"That he is unwilling to do so even with the prospect of the Lestrange vaults, and that we all know that his investments have dwindled since Black's reclamation of the name and house, are very important aspects, I believe."

Nott merely inclined his head in acceptance. It was a bit difficult to deduce where the winds were blowing from – and indeed, which way.

* * *

"You did what?" yelped Sirius.

"I allowed people to...er...overhear some conversations where I might have implied that you were moving against Malfoy."

Now, normally, this shouldn't have come as a surprise, for Sirius already had been told about Draco Malfoy being the target. But such an expansion to other targets had not been part of what even Sirius had known. Knowing that there was little to say or do that would otherwise change this, he just sat back down again, and glared at Harry in frustration.

"We have to talk to Dumbledore."

"You promised me that you would keep things from him until I had concrete plans."

"You didn't let me in on yours!" Sirius furiously argued.

"I did. It was only an impromptu extension, one that even if they do try, they cannot trace back to you!"

"They will ask me about this."

"Well you don't know anything about it, Sirius! Isn't that obvious? Don't ask how they knew! Deny having any knowledge of any promise, but only until this Lestrange Vault hearing is done. Thereafter, approach them and give them a validation of their suspicion."

"Harry you are not making any sense!"

This was the moment. Sirius' cooperation was essential for pulling off the most audacious thing he had ever planned, even after he had taken steps on the path few trod, which was audacious by itself.

"Come with me," Harry simply said, as he drew the Invisibility Cloak from his bag.

Sirius was more than a foot taller than Harry was, so he had to crouch a bit, as they donned the Cloak and walked through the castle. Soon they were outside Myrtle's bathroom; Myrtle, at the time was very fortuitously absent. Two hissed passwords, and a trek through unbearable filth later, Sirius was facing the half-rotting corpse of the Basilisk.

"Do you see this, Sirius?" Harry asked through a pinched nose.

"Harry..." was all the man choked out, unmindful of the stench. His godson had faced this. His very young godson **_had faced this!_** It took a full five minutes for the environment to sink in and the stench to become unbearable, before Sirius regained his senses and cast what he said was the Bubble-Head Charm around them both.

Harry let Sirius ride out his anger as he ranted and growled for another five minutes. "I am going to effing murder Lucius Malfoy and then cut him down to tiny pieces before incinerating them all before feeding the remains to an ashwinder!" Sirius finally hissed.

"No. You are not. Your job, Sirius, is to blend all elements of theatricality that you, as a Marauder boasted of. Then, you are going to bring them all, including Fudge, down here. Oh, I will have to be there. I am after all the only Parselmouth around who isn't Tom. But while I, a scared teen, will try to put up a brave face, you – not anyone else, you, Sirius – will be driving home to them that Lucius Malfoy was eliminating the competition, without actually calling them Death Eaters. Do you understand? You get to watch as you throw Malfoy to the wolves, literally."

Of course, this was only the part of the plan that Sirius was supposed to work with, initially. It was also enough to calm him as one insane scenario after another to bring this about played through the man's mind.

"Till your civil dispute with Malfoy is settled, however, you have never even thought of what their kids claim to have spuriously overheard from me. You have to manage it well enough to ensure that only after it becomes obvious that you get the Lestrange Vaults can you come clean to them. That, Sirius, is your responsibility."

And Sirius did understand. He was, still, a means to an end – a very beloved means to an end, for sure, and designed to help him be free from the bugbear that was Lucius Malfoy, but still a means to an end. And when faced with such definitive proof as the corpse of the Basilisk, Sirius was rather willing to comply.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy's big play became quite evident when another trickle of Sirius-related articles started up in the _Prophet_. It was a little amusing, because papers like the _Omen Reader_ , which actually mattered but were not as widely circulated didn't even consider him a topic worth discussion after his initial exoneration.

But now, a whole month after the Azkaban clinic proposal was presented, there was an _editorial._ Reports were one thing, generated purely to combat slow news days sometimes. But editorials – editorials were and are never written on a whim. It is the sole place, after all, where opinion can be legitimately published by the _editor_ essentially the person in charge of the integrity of the newspaper. And Cuffe had gone out on a limb to call Sirius 'pardoned'. There was a reason why the English language boasted of the any words it did. Each had a meaning all of its own. Misplaced words lead to misinterpretation.

In fact, it was such a poor idea, that Harry ignored it. Barnabas Cuffe was likely feeling some pressure from those higher up in the pecking order, and had therefore been hasty, or too late, depending on how you looked at it. After all, if a topic is brought up repeatedly with little continuity, even those who look at politics with nothing more than disdain are likely to smell something fishy. Sirius had become a topic that the _Prophet_ returned to only when they had nothing to say.

But then it happened again the next day. And it was repeated through another article the day after questioning – or rather, making a poor attempt at playing devil's advocate for the familial rights of prisoners of Azkaban. It even invited letter to the editor. And this article, finally, put forth that Sirius was Harry's godfather, and therefore in prime position to become his guardian over his muggle relatives if he so chose.

Once was a mistake, twice a coincidence. Three times was way too many. And it was in the midst of this, that there were angry letter to the editor questioning the sanity of those with the power to decide if they allowed a pardoned ex-prisoner, a man who was still viewed by sections of the magical public, especially the conspiracy theorists, to have escaped like the other Death Eaters (who could claim the authenticity of a dead man's identity, they asked, when countered by the reminder about Pettigrew) to gain parental rights over the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was obvious. Sirius was being tried in the court of public opinion.

Simultaneously, Sirius amusedly wrote to tell him about the discussions regarding awarding former Azkaban prisoners and those with long-term Dementor exposure, were being pushed ahead in response.

They had waited for long enough for Malfoy to actually try something, but when a whole week in the lead up to the Wizengamot session brought no other action, Sirius jumped at the chance to shame the _Prophet_. Sirius willingly going up against something like this was quite overdue.

Still it disappointed Harry. Was this all that was the great ploy? He chose to confirm it with his Headmaster. The confirmation that it was felt very anticlimactic, almost like a betrayal.

Harry didn't know when he had started to enjoy the skirmishes. For them to end in so paltry a manner...it was bad form. At least **_he_** had something better in store for their lot.

* * *

"Mr. Cuffe," Sirius very genially greeted, as he shook the man's hand.

Barnabas Cuffe wiped his face with a handkerchief as he made a spirited attempt at plastering a beam on his face, even as he returned the greeting.

"How do you do, Mr. Black?"

"How do you do?" chimed Sirius, though the inflection on 'you' was very obvious.

"How may I help you, Mr. Black?" Cuffe asked as he ushered his paper's latest muse into his office.

"Oh, I believed it was very high time to give your esteemed publication an interview, as your reporters have been trying to convince me. Brought me down from my lofty broom, you did!" Sirius said with an immoderate chuckle. He was almost sure that Cuffe thought the same with some glee.

"Indeed, indeed, Mr. Black," Cuffe retorted. "You shall find that our reporters are nothing if not determined. We do not lose scent. You'd have to be a hound – or at least a hound animagus to supersede us in that regard."

Sirius had a very tough time keeping a straight face at that, let alone to allow his expression to turn...grim. His registration had been quietly handled. Very few people ever became Animagi, and fewer still knew that it was possible to have a secret registration like the special registration numbers some of the very rich muggles got for their cars. And it was actually peanuts compared to what he had paid for Harry's broom. Of course, he wasn't giving Harry ideas yet. They were young and stupid, but he wasn't going to be a stupid godfather at any rate. So, in any case, he was sure that Cuffe could neither actually know, nor blackmail him. Then he had to suppress a chuckle. The situation was rife with opportunities for puns.

"And I shall remember that in future."

"When and where would you prefer to have the interview?" Cuffe asked a bit smarmily.

"Now, if it suits you. And as public as you could possibly make it, provided you promise to not print a single word out of context, as well as not to print incomplete quotes. I would obviously prefer a contract to that effect. On my part, I shall, of course, promise exclusivity for a period of one month."

It would be a month to regret for them, he would ensure it.

"I do not see those that employ me allowing me to negotiate for such a short duration."

"Consider it a trial, Mr. Cuffe. After all, and pardon me my straightforwardness, you are employed to sell copies of your papers, and to ensure that any...mistakes on the part of your journalists do not reflect on your publication, are you not?"

"As regrettable as it may seem, journalism is, at the end of the day, a business and I do have to keep an eye out for sales and profit margins," Cuffe agreed. "That doesn't mean we compromise on the news."

Sirius refrained from saying that it wasn't the news the compromised upon, but the truth. "That's just what I mean," Sirius replied wide-eyed. "Now, I am sure that the magical public has far more, and certainly justified, interest in what is actually happening in the magical world, than the little bumps and hurdles a man wrongly jailed and newly freed faces as he adjusts to life and to his renewing relationship with his godson, don't you think? The one month trial would allow us to be more comfortable with the other so that neither of us intrudes upon territory the other deems sacrosanct, or too private for general consumption."

"The public has a right to know..."

"...only as much as I am willing to share about my personal life," Sirius completed forcefully, his face hardening. "I mean, I doubt the public would want to know of any philandering ways that you may indulge in, don't you agree?"

Cuffe paled in shock at what turned out to be a very spot-on accusation.

Sirius eased off. "That's precisely what I meant, and I only said that hypothetically. Consider the month an adjustment period where we can set boundaries that both sides can respect."

"I can understand," Cuffe mumbled with as much dignity as he could muster.

Sirius took the capitulation for what it was worth. An hour later, he was being shepherded to one of the smaller interview rooms, the larger ones being used for state dignitaries like ambassadors.

The interview itself was short, and the questions were the entirely expected stuff to be expected from the witch, Alicia Hardbottom, who was assistant editor for the Page 3 columns – in unsubtle words, the gossip columns.

Thereafter there were certain standard questions from their political correspondent Oliver Crump, regarding where the Blacks stood on certain issues that were presented before the Wizengamot and were still in discussion, with two questions on the legislative debate for the Child Protection Act. Sirius gave the most circumspect answers to them all.

Then there were some follow-up questions by Hardbottom about what he thought of Harry, and then whether there was a witch who had claimed his heart.

"Azkaban," Sirius replied to the last one mournfully, "has an effect on people you know. Harry has grown from the infant that decided that pulling my moustache was the greatest fun that existed – and it was painful enough that I shaved it, to my consternation. But he is someone who has accepted me as I am. Creating a new relationship or sustaining an old one with other adults has been difficult."

Hardbottom gave him a coy, flirtatious smile as she commiserated, "I doubt you'd have to search a lot, Mr. Black. I am sure you have many admirers among witches your age..."

"And I believe I have grown past the age where admiration means much, Miss Hardbottom..." Sirius said deeply, and with a slight nod to her. She was a pretty witch, and past thirty, which meant he wouldn't feel like he would be dating a kid if he ever asked her out – not that he intended to, but he was Sirius. He tended to think of everything; and these things in particular.

Hardbottom only blushed.

The interview wrapped up soon after, when Sirius very courteously asked for the presence of the editor.

"Mr. Cuffe, I have a small gift that I would like to present to your publication. Please do consider it a part of the interview."

Sirius drew a small gift-wrapped package from an inside pocket of his coat. It was slightly wieldy and rectangular. A photograph was taken as Sirius presented it, and then another as Cuffe opened the package.

It was a dictionary, with two bookmarks.

Cuffe looked at Sirius with an entirely puzzled expression.

"Please, the bookmarks are for your benefit, Mr. Cuffe. I would advise you to open the latter one first. Do read it out. As a conscientious citizen, I could hardly stop myself from correcting the grave mistakes you seem to be making of late." Turning to the two reporters, Sirius asked very seriously, "You are taking this down, right? It's in our contract and everything."

One was in for the letter 'p' – for the word 'pardon'.

"Pardon (noun): the action of forgiving or being forgiven for an error or offence."

The second was for the letter 'e' – for the word 'exoneration'.

"Exoneration (noun): the action of officially absolving someone from blame."

Cuffe was certainly grimacing as he read. He had done as he had been asked to, and now he was being the one bullied and shamed.

"You really aren't suggesting that either one or all of the following: the Ministry, the Department of Law Enforcement, or the Wizengamot are involved in underhanded practices are you?" Turning to the two reporters, he clarified, "This is me asking him a question. You _will_ print it, won't you?"

Cuffe knew in that moment that he was going to regret it all.

* * *

Sirius voluntarily partook of three sherbet lemons as he regaled Dumbledore, Harry and Moony with his visit to the offices of the _Daily Prophet_. He was in high spirits. Finally, _finally_ , he had been able to shake off whatever it was that held him back and had twisted Cuffe like a pretzel – all on his own. He had not needed Harry to suggest it to him, though there was, in his opinion, little shame in that.

His audience were indulgent as well. Up to a certain point, that is.

"You are not very amused, are you?"

"I am more worried by the fact that _this_ kind of stupidity was Lucius Malfoy's ploy." Harry seemed the entirely too pessimistic.

"And again, I must remind you my boy that we must put such disappointments behind us," Dumbledore calmly explained.

"It's just that I can't help but feel as if it is all incomplete, that something else is yet to happen."

"And following your instincts is admirable, but your instincts need training too," the Headmaster persisted. "Allow me to show you the path that they had envisaged, but was broken down, because they probably chose to ignore what has been staring them in the face all along."

"What has been staring them in the face?" asked Sirius, again out of the loop.

"Why, Harry of course!" pointed out Dumbledore. "Little has been done to keep his involvement truly secret, yet they believe that it is a more experienced person pulling the strings."

"And such a misdirection that they have brought upon themselves is nothing to scoff at," Moony supplied with a grin.

"I can see that your schoolyard antics were of greater use to you than earning detentions and losing points for Gryffindor," Dumbledore mildly rebuked. "But, as I was saying, we must analyse the way they were working." Now this was one of the rare fully verbalised lessons on Dumbledore's part.

"Sometimes the best plans are also the most simple, the ones with the least moving parts, so to speak. Look at it as they saw it.

"First their objectives were clear as we knew them to be – make it a choice between the Lestrange Vaults and you. Hiding the clauses was simply brilliant, because the issue was sensitive enough that it garnered support all on its own. The objective was to catch him unawares when those clauses finally come up for discussion. They were designed with Sirius in mind, just as they had targeted some of the people who could have had custody of you back in 1982, while at the same time making your placement with the Dursleys untenable, no doubt in small part due to your relatives' action."

"But that would still be better than being placed wherever they'd choose to."

"I concur, my boy, I do. The timeline was staggered so as to ensure that until both situations came up for a final decision, nothing could link the vaults, Sirius and you, on their part."

Harry nodded. That had been how it had worked, and he had worked that out himself.

"By conducting a media trial, they intended to keep Sirius in no small amount of panic – how many letters contained bubotuber puss again?" Dumbledore asked the younger man.

"Four," he promptly answered. "I am however able to detect such stuff and as a normal citizen would reported it to the DMLE."

Dumbledore waved a hand as if to say, "There you go."

"So while Sirius is dealing with actual physical harm, and is shown incapable of protecting himself, the matter where I am dragged in comes up, splitting time with the vaults. And then there are too many fires for him to put out, as had been expected."

"Yes. Now, the flaw in the plan was assuming nobody would assume they were out to go after Sirius, and therefore wouldn't check the document deeply as ...ah...Sirius has." With a twinkle in his eye, he explained, "I break no confidences when I assume he has discussed the matter with you."

"He has sir, yes," Harry accepted too solemnly for it to be serious.

"It pains me slightly to say that I had not thought of it, however. Such vigilance should be commended," Dumbledore praised Sirius, looking directly at him.

"Thank you," Sirius accepted with as straight a face as he could manage.

"And now they will be surprised to find that Sirius is therefore not between the Devil and the Deep Sea, so to speak, not without him sailing a very sturdy and well-attested ship, at any rate. I am very sure that it wasn't the only route they would have chosen, however; your instincts are right on that account. The next obvious step was to bring up another legislation that prevented those locked up in Azkaban from claiming vaults as next of kin. And already, since Sirius would be worried about the CPA clauses, the hate mail and such he would be in no position to curtail the propaganda that he was "pardoned"."

"Something that he has now done," Remus added. "So with the cushion of the ICW-certified Healers' attestation, with this slap-down of the Prophet, their parallel plans have failed?"

"I feel as sure as I can guess. My guess may be wrong of course, but over the years I find that they rarely are. When you assume a situation where none of what has been done to aid Sirius was actually effected, you shall observe that it was all timed. They had a chronological order, fully planned and prepared. Their mistake was sticking to it rigidly even when things seemed contrary to their expectations. The other obvious mistake was lumping their gains towards the end. Had they tried to chew smaller morsels, they would have known when the salt was a bit too much for their tastes."

"Wasn't it a bit arrogant of them to assume that only this was enough? I am sorry sir, but I can't shake the feeling that it was only warming-up exercise."

"Oh you're right on both accounts Harry. Indeed they have risked exposing their motivation for very little gain. And that is why, now with these flimsy but time-consuming obstacles out of the way, it is imperative to make things warmer for them than they can handle. Unfortunately, your age restricts your rather delightful participation in such a scheme."

"I am nothing if not patient."

"I very much doubt it."


	16. Chapter 16

**The Endgame – I**

Thanks to all readers, followers and the following reviewers: DarkRavie, mwinter1, syed, Harriverse, WhiteEagle1985, EP, Rori Potter, alix33, renextronex, Dr. Stranger, Cerjerk and the Guest who wrote me a flame demanding that none of us ever write again.

This is the last arc of this part of the story, and resolves the matter of Lucius Malfoy and his family – permanently. There is a twist that may seem senseless given what happened till now, but I promise you it really has a perfectly good reason that will be explained in the next chapter.

 **A/n by MumbaiGirl1: This Chapter was supposed to be posted a week ago as TKWS had requested me to, but I thought I'd complete the chapter to my story and post both together. Your friendly teenage story-teller will return when he is done moping about Liverpool losing the Champions League final. It might be a long forever. That, however, means we keep the name Harmonious Cannons instead of some Liverpool-favouring name. Ah...Lorus Karius, you are by far the greatest goalkeeper the world has ever seen. I really shouldn't point fingers, we had Manuel Almunia at Arsenal.**

* * *

9th May, 1994

There was an idea, to bring together a group of like-minded individuals, and see if they could wrest the control of a situation in favour of the pure-bloods. See if they could work together when it suited them, to fight the battles most never would – battles like the one against Sirius Black.

That idea had failed, and the like-minded people knew that. The dictionary gimmick that Black had pulled off told them what they needed to know. Black had either had enough help to pick that apart, or had done so himself. That the _Prophet_ had to carry a retraction, an apology and an explanation, along with Director Bones' statement regarding the persecution faced by Sirius Black from unscrupulous elements, dismantled their entire ploy to blindside him.

Now they had to rely on hope a little bit – hope that the clauses in the CPA meant to corner Black would go unnoticed and that the matter, which hadn't drawn any sort of reaction from Black, who had hitherto aggressively pressed back against anything that they threw his way. This had meant that Lucius had had to, finally, indeed change his response.

Already Selwyn had made some noise about demanding his legal fees and asking to not be considered in the plot at all, though never coming outright to say it. Nott had tethered on agreement with the man. Neither had been conclusive about it, to be sure, but they had known that success was not going to be unblemished. Rats they were all, and they had decided that it was a sinking ship to abandon as soon as possible. The way it went now, Malfoy knew that both he and Black were going to be forced a one or the other situation. It was likely that Black would win the Vaults.

But Black **_would_** lose the chance of custody of his godson. And then, then Lucius intended to bargain with Black for the Vaults – and a sizeable chunk of the Black wealth also. Wealth that would replenish all that he stood to lose because of Black's presence. And then he would see Black crushed under his heel, along with all those who opposed or betrayed him.

The following day, he would return to the Hall he was ousted from so unceremoniously by Black. First he would be a mere guest for the disputing part – then he would be the Regent of Black, as he had been. It did not matter that while he called himself regent, it was not really a post. The correct wording was "Representative for the House of Black, occupying the inherited seat, on behalf of Sirius Black, currently legally indisposed". That was a mouthful and less pretentious for Lucius Malfoy, who always wanted to be seen as a ruler of some kind, and had a fascination with the graces and airs he believed the families that inherited the seats rightfully wielded (then again, instead of the mouthful, most people did prefer the word "Regent"). He was, like so many other things, wrong about that. The seats had been inherited through a history of bloody fights, and the Wizengamot had only been started – despite its supposedly peaceful origins – to settle disputes before they progressed to fights and from there on to bloodshed.

That information was such that Lucius Malfoy would have dismissed as meaningless meandering. He shouldn't have. It would have prepared him for what was to come. There was always a reason why the Blacks were feared. They were among the most vicious families in history, and their opponents were always left as bloodied messes, something that had slipped from his mind in spite of being married to one, and being personally terrorised by his boggart, a now dead woman who was also his sister-in-law.

* * *

If there was one thing that Azkaban had changed for Sirius Black, it was the fact that he no longer took things for granted. Things had changed a lot, even though he forced through a sunny attitude as he always had, an attitude that very few people could see past.

He had taken the fact that Remus – considered a Dark Creature through no fault of his – would finally break in the face of persecution for granted, no matter that the man was his brother in all ways that mattered. Remus hadn't. Sirius was wrong.

He had taken the fact that Peter, whom he, James and Remus had always treated and considered as their brother, through the truly strong fraternal bond the Marauders had forged, as he, James and Peter had treated Remus. He had taken for granted the fact that Peter's loyalty would be with them. It wasn't. Peter had betrayed them all. Sirius was wrong again.

He had taken for granted the fact that as people had _seen_ him do things that were insane and audacious, yet certainly effective in combating Voldemort, **_directly_** , as few save James, Lily, Frank, Alice, Dumbledore and Moody had done, they would dissociate him from the darkness of the Black Name, and that someone would eventually come for him and free him from Azkaban. Nobody had done either of those things, and once again, Sirius had been proven wrong.

Sure, Dumbledore accepted he was wrong in never investigating the matter deeply enough, but it had always rankled, and would always rankle, that Dumbledore would speak for a Death Eater, but not even deign to talk to him – never mind the spell that he and the Potters had cast on the Headmaster. He had not spared even one moment to ask why Sirius had betrayed the Potters, not afforded him one chance that would have averted those twelve years in hell.

He had put it behind him and had decided to trust the man to do what was right for Harry's sake, and also because beyond the absence of a chance meeting there was little else Dumbledore could be blamed for. Dumbledore had been the witness who deposed against him – he couldn't have been, as people fooled by the longevity of Dumbledore in his many positions assumed, the Chief Warlock, because he was elected later. After all, how could a person who held the position of the Chief Justice, if only by name, be the witness in any case?

But it would always hurt. Dumbledore had put him out of mind.

Sirius had learnt not to take for granted anything anymore. In the entire world, there was only one person he fully trusted – and as odd as it was, a devious teen of a godson was that one person. And that person had laid the groundwork for what he was required to accomplish. Sirius had no intention to take things for granted after they had gone so well. By Merlin he was going to complete it.

He was going to ensure that they won completely, thoroughly, in every way, before they got down to completely decimating Lucius Malfoy. And so he was preparing in right earnest.

Those inside the hall whom he could trust to help him had been met with immediately after his return from his health certification tour. The idea that such a great piece of legislation was hiding such a cruel secret within it meant that there were people angry enough about it, or at least willing to show that they were angry on his behalf. To allay any doubts that those people might have had, he now had the certifications of health and related documents along with the contact details of the Healers who had certified him healthy, each of which was independently verifiable, and Sirius had exhorted them all to verify it.

Shacklebolt had. He had an Auror for a brother, and knew enough that sometimes, having the witnesses say that they had verified something meant more than the claim that something was verifiable. So then Shacklebolt had gone on to ask the friendly Wizengamot members to suggest ICW healers with vehemence. They were to behave as if they never knew of the clause before as well as Sirius' pre-emptive obtainment of the required documents. After years of tepid submission to the likes of Malfoy, illegally in the Black Seat, Charles Shacklebolt was now relishing this turning of the tide.

Thereafter Sirius had spent quite some time rifling through every document about every interaction between the Blacks and Lestranges, and, as he had expected, was able to procure the exact things he needed, simply because he had known they existed. Then he had gone on to do so with every family, including the Potters. For some, it was the stick with which he could control them, or ensure a ceasefire in many ways. For people like Harry – with whom he wanted no such things hanging over either of their heads – they were things he wanted cleared off as soon as possible. So he went forth and appointed an accounting and auditing firm to help him.

He was feeling secure and confident of victory, but was prepared for any surprises.

Then again, there were the overtures by the parents, or other kin, of those Harry and his friends had targeted. These overtures were carefully sidestepped, but not ignored, as he spoke in vague analogies about the rare winter blooms not being as beautiful in the spring, no matter how beautiful spring itself might be.

Sirius was sure he should have felt worried about the fact that his not yet fourteen-year-old godson was doing such things as using children to manipulate their parents or other family members, but then he decided that nitpicking his own side was an exercise in futility.

* * *

"Bailiff, please address the topics to be raised in the morning session," the Chief Warlock ordered. "Is there business to be presented before this Chamber in its position as the Court of Law?"

"Yes, Chief Warlock. Today the Court is scheduled to hear matter of the Civil Dispute over a set of Gringotts' Vaults and their contents."

"Please proceed. I call upon the members of the Wizengamot Committee for the Adjudication of Financial Disputes to perform their duties in a fair and unbiased manner as they have always."

The Committee consisted of Tiberius Ogden, the liquor baron, Aurelius Scott, a well-known professional philanthropist and Order of Merlin Second Class Awardee, Madam Elizabeth Fitzgerald, the Director of the Department of Financial Administration, Taxation and Business, Dirk Creswell the Goblin Liaison, and Paul Plainview, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister (Finance and Economics).

Of these, Dirk Creswell had the actual job of finding information from the goblins while the rest were actually there as part of an on-site auditing and authentication team, as well as a poncily named jury who'd recommend the course of action. In fact, Ogden and Scott were not even permanent – the other three permanent members invited them to the committee for cases they were not involved in.

"The Wizengamot Committee for the Adjudication of Financial Disputes shall now hear case 1728B/771051994: the settlement of the issue of inheritance of the Lestrange Vaults. The Committee shall hear the arguments in favour of Sirius Orion Black, hereafter referred to as the Applicant One, as well as in favour of Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, hereafter referred to as the Applicant Two, and the two applicants dispute the other's claim," declared the Bailiff.

Even Sirius knew that making Narcissa the applicant was a weak ploy – not because she was a woman and was being projected in place of her husband, but because she was the deceased woman's sister, which indeed was the reason she had been placed in the position. If they were going to rely purely on that relation, on sentimentally driven arguments, then they had already given up on the vaults. It made Sirius more alert – this meant they were going to pursue the custody battle seriously. It also baffled him because it would have been easier in reality to get a fictitious Lestrange to turn up. Then again, with the conspiracy being published, there would have been a lot of difficulty as every other member would certainly have questioned the claimant's credentials.

Anyway, they also showed their hand by telling who exactly would be fighting him for custody, if at all. Well, he was not showing his hand, not yet anyway.

"Mr. Creswell, please present the facts of the case as they are known and verified," Dumbledore ordered.

"Yes Chief Warlock. The Vault numbered 1121, hereafter referred to as the main vault, and the subsidiary vaults 1122, 1123 and 1124, were collectively leased by the Lestrange family according to a contract with Gringotts' Wizarding bank, hereafter referred to as Gringotts'. Let it be noted that the transfer of vaults means the transfer of all assets stored therein.

Dumbledore ordered the Court Scribe to do so.

"The Patriarch," continued Dirk Creswell, "Commodus Lestrange, passed away in April 1979, and upon his death, the vault 1121 was transferred to his son Rudolphus Lestrange's name. The vault 1122 is a family vault and contains non-liquid assets. It is collectively held on lease by all living Lestranges by familial agreement. Vault 1123 was a combined vault controlled by Rudolphus Lestrange and his wife Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black. Vault 1124 was a stipend vault for Rabastan Lestrange, Rudolphus Lestrange's younger brother. These vaults also contain an inventoried list of all things that were recovered from the Lestrange estate to protect them from thieving or robbery, upon the prisoners' request in 1981. Several dark artefacts were destroyed at the time, so the additions were not the complete set that existed within the house."

So that gift from the Dark Lord was already in the vaults, otherwise such a request would not have been made.

"Please inform as a matter of record why these vaults are now to be considered under dispute."

Amelia Bones, the director of the Department of Magical law Enforcement was required to give this report/recapitulation. She raised her lit wand before being allowed to speak.

"Rudolphus, Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange were sentenced to Life Imprisonment for crimes relating to torture of two ex-Aurors, as well as several other instances of terrorist activities. They were recognised as Death Eaters. In the year 1993, a plot by the now deceased Peter Pettigrew, formerly Order of Merlin Third Class, now known Death Eater and betrayer of the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who at the time had been in hiding for twelve years, to create a diversion by letting Mr. Sirius Black, whom he had framed for the treachery as well as his murder, know where he was, was uncovered.

"Mr. Black escaped Azkaban to protect his godson as he had realised that Pettigrew was hiding near Hogwarts. That drew forty-five per cent of the Dementor population around the prison to hunt for Mr. Black, leaving the prison underguarded. Pettigrew intended to use this situation to break the Lestranges and Augustus Rookwood out of Azkaban and push forward with what he claimed to be a plot to resurrect He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. However, intelligence regarding such a plot was received before it could be put into effect, and the Ministry decided to take an executive decision about the fates of the criminals. They were considered a long-term threat collectively and were executed with immediate effect. The line of Lestranges was ended. Pettigrew was also apprehended, in the month of January 1994, and was executed."

"Were there no claimants claiming blood-relation, or any marital relation, to the Lestranges?" asked Dumbledore of Dirk Creswell.

"No Chief Warlock. No claimant has stepped forward, in the six months since the deaths of the last known Lestranges, to claim the vaults."

"Is there any contesting claim at present submitted by any other member of the magical community?"

"No Chief Warlock. The claims submitted by Mr. Sirius Orion Black and Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy nee Black are the only active claims and lie in dispute of each other."

"Are all these vaults to be claimed? Is there a provision of any sort regarding inheritance in the case of all members leasing the vaults passing on, facilitating an amicable settlement or division to appease both sides?"

"By decree of Maximus Lestrange, Chief Warlock, in 1803, the vaults were all tied together to ensure that any terminal inheritance would include all vaults simultaneously. The vaults may only be claimed together."

"Please put on record the collective value of the vaults' contents."

"Gringotts' records show one million and four Galleons, one sickle and three knuts liquid worth, sir. The value of the other assets has not been yet estimated."

In other words, the Lestranges did have some sense, for otherwise the Goblins would have 'reclaimed' their treasures. That was still quite a bit of gold.

"Have the representatives of Gringotts' Wizarding Bank raised any objections on record?"

"No Chief Warlock. However, they have requested that the one in whose favour this case will be decided return any Goblin-made artefacts."

"Very well," Dumbledore said with a nod and a tone of finality. Nobody paid the slightest attention to the Goblins' request. They always made it. "The two sides may present their arguments now."

As the claimant-applicant who had submitted the claim first, Sirius had to put his words forward first.

"Chief Warlock, respected members of the Wizengamot, I, Sirius Black respectfully claim the vaults of the Lestrange family, in accordance with the pre-nuptial and nuptial agreements between the two families regarding the marriage of Bellatrix Black which have as yet been not satisfied. Please also consider the clause regarding the death of the daughter of House Black.

"Bellatrix was in the end a Death Eater, and it caused her death. Courtesy of the DMLE, the following oath while receiving the Dark Mark is considered as reference: "I submit my will and magic to you, My Lord. My Life and Wand are yours to use as you please. My death shall only in your service be, as will my hands bloodstained be."

"Irrespective of whether or not she took the Mark off her own volition or under her husband's coercion, this action caused her death. In the event of the Mark being her choice, Lestrange failed to stop her from being swayed to the whims of another man – one whose mark he himself bore. I therefore also contend that the marriage was violated. If in the case that the mark was taken under coercion, then Lestrange has personally attempted to cause knowing harm to the daughter of the House of Black. The financial punishment for the same is stipulated in section 1: the Union of Bellatrix Black and Rudolphus Lestrange."

He submitted a dossier – an idea lifted from Harry – and offered copies of the same for the committee.

"Moving on, I beg the honourable Chief Warlock and the venerable committee to find attached the details of business deals between the two families which show the House of Lestrange indebted to the House of Black. The matters of capital and interest have been independently evaluated, and along with the previously stated financial sanctions for violations of the agreements regarding the Marital Union of Bellatrix Black and Rudolphus Lestrange, far outstrip the liquid assets of the Lestrange Vaults, as reported by Gringotts' and according to the evaluators' seal as affirmed by the firm Young, Waterhouse, Gillian and Co., hereafter referred to as the auditors.

"I therefore respectfully submit, that as the House Lestrange has attempted to defraud the House Black, and as it has caused the death of a daughter of House Black, this application to be awarded the vaults and other connected possessions be considered by the Wizengamot Committee for the Adjudication of Financial Disputes on behalf of this Hall."

"Is a representative for the auditors present in this Hall?" demanded Undersecretary Plainview.

A young man raised his wand and was asked to stand.

"Please identify yourself."

"I am Earnest Gillian, junior partner, Young, Waterhouse, Gillian and Co."

"Please state your Auditor's License number."

"ALE1431."

"Do you attest that this seal is a declaration by your firm?"

"Yes Undersecretary Plainview, I do."

"Do you also verbally attest, in full possession of your mental faculties and under no coercion from your client, that this audit has not in any way been tampered with? That your professional abilities will not be found wanting?"

"Yes, I do. The firm has audited and evaluated based on documents which were considered to be true to the best of our client's and our knowledge."

"And have these documents been verified?"

"Yes, Undersecretary Plainview. The documents have been shown as authentic when checked with Midas' Seven Spells."

"Do you have any reason to suspect any financial malpractice on your client's part?"

"No sir."

The documents were then set before Director Fitzgerald.

"Let it be noted that Director Fitzgerald is legally the foremost Midas' Seven Spells authority in the United Kingdom. Her word, by oath of office, is inviolate."

She went on to perform the spell and after fifteen minutes of perusal, declared, "These documents are authentic."

"Director Fitzgerald, please cast the tallying spells," directed Dumbledore.

"The tallies match, Chief Warlock."

"Do you find any discrepancies of any manner, Director Fitzgerald?"

"No Chief Warlock."

"May the claim by Sirius Orion Black be considered valid?"

"Yes Chief Warlock."

"Please record that the Director of the Department of Financial Administration, Taxation and Business, Director Elizabeth Fitzgerald has agreed to consider the application valid." Once that was duly noted, Dumbledore turned to Narcissa, "The Applicant Two may go forth."

Adjusting her skirts and shawls primly, Narcissa was the epitome of a woman torn. "Thank you Chief Warlock. I wish to request the presence of the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to be witness."

More than one eyebrow was raised around the room.

"Director Bones, please join the committee benches."

Amelia Bones duly complied.

"Thank you. It may be known to the court that Bellatrix Lestrange was my older sister. She was also, as the applicant, Sirius Black, stated, a convicted Death Eater. It was also proven before this court that my husband, Lucius Malfoy, was held under the Imperius Curse and forced to work in the name of Bellatrix's master. What was however unknown was that Bellatrix also stole money from my husband using me as an unwilling intermediary."

"Are you registering a complaint against the Lestrange Estate, Mrs. Malfoy?" Director Bones asked sharply.

"Yes Director Bones, I am."

So they were trying to stall the procedure by trying for adjournment.

"Before I register your complaint, please answer a few questions, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa gave a sharp, curt nod.

"Would it be right that the coercion for money was during the time before the Lestranges were arrested?"

"It was, Director."

"And, before the conspiracy plan was published in the newspapers, you had no reason to believe that such a thing could even be pulled off?"

"I had no idea, Madam Bones, but I wouldn't have put it past her. I am her sister after all."

"But you had no reason to even know that such a plan was being hatched?"

"No Madam Bones."

"Why then did you not complain about the coercion during the intervening period till her death?"

"She threatened my son, Madam Bones. I had reason to be scared."

"Even assuming that to be true, why didn't you complain immediately following her death? Surely, while the Financial Disputes committee waited for any claimant, this claimant could have easily been directed to return the money you claim she extorted, if your allegations were proven true?"

"Everyone knows what kind of a family the Lestranges are, Madam Bones. What if the possible claimant had come after my family?"

"I request you to steer clear of conjecture and comments regarding the "kind of family the Lestranges were" as you put it. It is of no import," Director Bones reprimanded. "But, as has been evidenced, there was no other Lestrange. Surely, your sister must have discussed her family with you at some point. You must have known..."

"She had mentioned some distant relatives, Madam Bones. After her arrest, I considered it prudent to absolve myself of any relationship with her and hers. If they may have passed on in the interim, I am not the best source to ask."

"Could you please tell us about these distant relatives, Mrs. Malfoy?" Mr. Scott asked with undisguised interest. "Indeed, as is our mandate, we can indefinitely adjourn this till we can make sure that the relatives you speak of are aware of the current proceedings and that they are not interested in applying for the vault contents."

"I am afraid thirteen years is a long time, Mr. Scott, to remember the names."

"And yet you believe that they would have been threats to your family." The man's tone did not disguise the fact that he was stopping just short of accusing Narcissa of lying to the court.

"I am sure I would have placed the names with those she had told me about all those years ago if they had come up," Narcissa replied coldly. "I have tried to put behind me the fact that my own sister threatened her own nephew."

"But now you look for retribution?"

Here Selwyn raised his wand.

"The Wizengamot recognises Mr. Selwyn. Please speak," ordered Dumbledore.

"I believe that this sort of interrogation is not the standard procedure when a complainant appears before the Department of Law Enforcement in any manner. To the best of this Hall's knowledge, Mrs. Malfoy was the victim in this case, and not the perpetrator. At the very least, the DMLE is obligated to file a First Information Report."

"This is merely a verification of facts, Mr. Selwyn, which, as you will find, the committees of the Wizengamot are perfectly within their powers to do when faced with exceptional situations, including in-case complaints that change the nature of the case from a civil dispute between two parties to a criminal case."

"We do not have any criminal case against Mr. Black, my cousin," Narcissa hastily explained.

"Most assuredly not, Mrs. Malfoy," Bones agreed. "It seems my words were misconstrued. You wish to lodge a criminal complaint against your sister."

"Yes," Narcissa replied, calming a bit. They wanted to antagonise Sirius, but not at this time.

"Yet," interjected Selwyn again, not allowing this diversion to derail what he wanted to say, "that does not allow the committee,or a member thereof, to question the complainant's motives at any point, which, as you may notice in retrospect, the questions so far posed have done."

"The Committee takes note of your objections, Mr. Selwyn. However, while she is reminded not to question the complainant's motives, _at this time,_ " stressed Mr. Ogden. Liquor barons too can have sense sometimes, if rarely. "Director Bones is required to complete this investigation also, and is in fact, bound by the law to do so, as you very well know."

"Mr. Selwyn is also reminded that the Wizengamot is capable of taking _suo motu_ cognisance of this complaint, based on my recommendation as the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and for that to be impartial, I am obligated by the law, and by my position, to investigate," Director Bones replied in a tone of quiet finality. "And coming back to the investigation, Mrs. Malfoy, do you have a record of any sort as to how much money was extorted and when? Surely, you must have maintained such records meticulously, if you planned to bring it to the Wizengamot's notice eventually?"

"My husband may have, as, while she threatened us both, she took money from him directly," Narcissa responded, hints of doubt now colouring her voice. She glanced at a seemingly livid Lucius. Obviously, this last minute change of plans was not working too well.

"Chief Warlock, with the permission of Director Bones, I request Mr. Malfoy to be called forth to depose before this gathering," Director Fitzgerald requested.

"I concur, Chief Warlock."

"Mr. Malfoy, please join Mrs Malfoy on the stand."

"Yes Chief Warlock."

"Mr. Malfoy, please answer the question for the Wizengamot records. Have you maintained any record of the coercive transactions between you and Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"She believed that the Dark Lord would rule forever, Madam Bones, and therefore memory-charmed me with impunity. It was only because the Dark Lord was not to know that she chose not to direct me with an Imperius herself."

"Which leads me to another questions," Director Bones continued, pouncing on this opening with all the glee of a cat that had found a fat mouse rendered sluggish by too much food. "You claim to have been under the Imperius."

"It was proven before this court," Lucius bit out.

"Indeed it was. But then how do you remember anything that happened then? As a matter of fact, how do you remember that she did take the money from you if you have been memory charmed, or even that you have been memory charmed in the first place, if as you claim, you have been memory charmed at all? If I remember rightly, the detention of several Imperius victims like you was after over a month after the incidents of Halloween 1981. There has been no medical investigation on record to that end."

And this was where he would be tested. Sometimes, when things start going wrong for someone, they just cascade and the wrong things just keep happening. That was precisely what happened to Lucius Malfoy. He had really not counted on holes being poked in an open session.

Sirius was having a hard time controlling his glee. He had not expected such a windfall. Now Malfoy could in no manner be saved from having his credibility take another hit. He expected Malfoy to bluster or blame things on Narcissa somehow.

But then that would be like a criminally lazily written plot of some stupid teen's attempt at writing a story. Then again it wasn't that the entire way that had brought them to this point wasn't convoluted or didn't have logical fallacies that even he could point out while he was unsure of himself. Merlin, he hoped he wouldn't end up spouting off some inane philosophy like "the wicked may try, but good always triumphs" or something equally asinine, as far as battles for power were concerned.

Still, if for nothing else, then for the sake of Narcissa – still his cousin – he wanted Lucius to come up with something, anything, credible.

Lucius did come up with a good one.

"Let me remind you Madam Bones, that I do remember what I was forced to do under the Imperius. It is for that very reason that I help institutions like St. Mungo's. It is my own, though admittedly pitiable, attempt at penance. And, as for the memory charm, this was Bellatrix Lestrange, often considered to be one of the cruellest women in England, never mind the fact that she was my sister-in-law. She performed the memory charm on me to make me forget how much she had taken – not that she had taken from me. I was, after all, not in any position, to put up a fight, since unlike this hall, I would not even have been afforded the courtesy of questions before my family was murdered."

So he was trying to attack like a cornered animal there, a little bit. Then again experience had shown him that the victim card worked well for him, really.

However, there was the small matter of being up against Director Bones to contend with. She was not going to let this go easily. "Why then was this matter not brought up during the trials held against the Lestranges? The Wizengamot would have been harsher on them then, surely?"

There was no getting out of this, not without creating a scapegoat somehow, out of Narcissa. So that was precisely what Lucius did.

"I was willing to let things be for the sake of family, so long as she no longer threatened us."

"But you have chosen to ensure that now that she is no longer among the living, you shall recoup all that you lost," Ogden stated. His tone was a curious mix of scepticism and a hint of a smirk.

Lucius chose not to respond to that. He had not been asked a specific question.

"The matter that remains before this committee," Dirk Creswell interrupted, "is about the line of inheritance in compliance with all treaties and contracts hereunto agreed upon with Gringotts' Wizarding Bank, and which, as such, are currently in effect. The inquisition that certainly has a bearing upon this hearing, however, cannot at this moment clearly provide an answer to the converse. We have yet to find Mr. Malfoy's claim superior to that of documented proof and evidence backing Mr. Black's claims."

"You will find, Creswell, that my wife is the applicant, not me," Lucius retorted immediately, seizing the chance for misdirection, though it wasn't intended to be so by the highest ranked muggle-born in the Ministry. He was not deemed worthy of a title, not even a 'mister', of course.

"Of course," the Goblin Liaison replied simply.

"Mr. Creswell indeed raises a valid point. While the hearing does indeed need to take into account the latest accusations, and act on them, for the victim is not always bound by a time stipulation regarding when the complaint may be registered, it does not stand in contravention to the fact that Mr. Black's claim is, barring his contention regarding the death of a daughter of House Black – a matter that is yet to be adjudicated – remains true to the accepted set of proofs for such a claim, and are authentic," Director Fitzgerald temporised. "Should this body find Mr. Black's contention regarding the death of Bellatrix Lestrange valid, there remains no conclusive reason why the vaults should **_not_** be awarded to him."

And this was where the timeline had failed for Lucius. Black, at the moment, was supposed to be putting out fires and complaining about being treated as a convict in spite of being absolved of any crime, according to the plan. Instead, the man was simply sitting in **_that_** seat Lucius so coveted, serenely awaiting his turn to put forth his arguments, where he would try to prove that Lestrange was responsible for the many violations. Any accusation that Lucius could level at Lestrange made not a lick of a difference to his stand, because those two things stood on completely different planes. Black simply had a hand where he could be right irrespective of the validity of Lucius' contention.

Lucius could only watch as Black stood to explain his side again. In the oddly insular body that was the Wizengamot civil disputes between relatives were unofficially a no-go zone for lawyers. He would have certainly had Selwyn represent him otherwise. He would have given the man his own share as well. It wasn't the money he was after, after all.

"Mr. Black, the committee wishes to clarify your contention regarding the clauses regarding the events that led to the death of Bellatrix Lestrange," Aurelius Scott intimated.

"I shall provide the truth and only the truth, as I know it, and have verified it to be."

"You have accused the House of Lestrange of causing the death of Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, daughter of House Black. Could you explain, for this body's benefit, what you meant?"

"If it pleases the committee, may I provide some background information that cannot be bound in any contract first?"

"You may."

"Thank you. The then Head of House, my grandfather Arcturus Black, had forbidden any lady or daughter of the House of Black to join the Death Eaters. I shall openly admit that apart from my Grandfather's sister, Dorea Potter nee Black, nobody had ever spoken openly for or against Voldemort."

There were gasps from the people in the room. Sirius shot them all a scathing look, as he donned the persona of a man who hated the named man (which he did), held him personally responsible for all the deaths of his family members (which also he did), and would avenge them no matter who would stand in his way (which he would). He cast a menacing look around the hall. Body language and presenting himself to people was something Sirius had, barring one glaring exception (though in grief and rage), always excelled at.

"However, it was well known that the Death Eaters were involved in several crimes against the dignity of women. I shall not speculate here about the claim that it was a basic requirement for the Dark Mark, along with murder. There was also the fact that there hardly were any female Death Eaters. My grandfather, rightly in my opinion, believed that any woman who found herself so marked would probably lose her dignity under the garb of Voldemort's orders, for his pleasure."

It was a long-winded way of saying that the Death Eaters were all rapist bastards who had probably done the same to Bellatrix.

"At the time when Bellatrix became enamoured with Lestrange, there was already talk of them exhorting people to join Voldemort. The Head of House Black tried several methods to dissuade Bellatrix about the union, but all legal methods failed. Bellatrix, may it be noted, seemed to be intrigued by the idea of the Death Eaters soon after Rudolphus started courting her. Her intentions to that end were not known to us, but such service of Voldemort was in direct contravention of my Grandfather's edicts. He therefore chose to create as many roadblocks as possible to ensure that her dignity was protected, to the best of his ability."

"You said that Bellatrix Black may or may not have intended to join the Death Eaters."

"Yes. She did do so, even though the House of Black did not raise its daughters to be Death Eaters or criminals of such sort." Here he shot Narcissa an acidic look, enough that she blanched, and took a step back. Every word that he had relayed was true, except for Bellatrix's intention.

"The stipulations in the agreements for the union actively forbade her from joining or being allowed to join the Death Eaters?"

"Yes Committee Member Scott. The relevant clauses are marked in the copies of the documents submitted for the committee's perusal."

"Chief Warlock, Director Bones, we would prefer that these be examined by a lawyer well-versed with contracts, by your recommendation."

"I call upon Elmer Wellington, of the Department of Law Devices and Wizengamot Affairs, to join the table," Amelia Bones asked.

He was a severe-looking middle-aged man who had a very quiet demeanour, something like a male Minerva McGonagall. He was also the last person that day who would get involved in the matter. He went over every document meticulously. As most of the agreements were the stipulations for punishment, the financial aspects of which had already been audited and the auditing too was verified, Wellington was only required to consider the clauses that triggered the punitive actions in the first place.

At length, he started noting the relevant parts. It was rather obvious that his practised eye had skimmed over several parts to get right to the heart of the matter.

"Please note, referenced to the pre-nuptial agreement between the families of the bride and the groom, clause seven-B, subsection one. " ** _The bride will, at all times be required to adhere to conduct befitting the honour of both the families. Should she indulge in adultery, the marriage shall be considered forfeit. All transactions owed to the groom's family shall thence be honoured in full with immediate effect upon proof of adultery being provided._** " Subsection two states, " ** _The groom will, at all times be required to adhere to conduct befitting the honour of both the families. Should he indulge in adultery, the marriage shall be considered forfeit. All transactions owed to the bride's family shall thence be honoured in full with immediate effect upon proof of adultery being provided._** "

"Please note, referenced to section eight.

" ** _The bride will, at all times, follow the edict dictated upon majority by the Head of House Black regarding participation in any group, team, club, fraternity, political activist group, any conglomeration where magic may be used, religious sect, and any legal or illegal community of any form, thereunto pertaining without the express permission of the incumbent Head of House Black. This permission must be registered in the form of an affidavit notarised with the Ministry for Magic. This affidavit must, at all times be available for reference to the succeeding Heads of House Black. The groom and his family may not, in any manner, coerce, interfere or otherwise attempt to influence this decision._**

"Please note, referenced to the nuptial agreement, signed upon consummation of the marital union between Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black and Rudolphus Lestrange, section two-C.

" ** _The loyalty of either party to the spouse may not in any manner be violated. Any attempt to otherwise subvert the loyalty of the bride or the groom to any other institution apart from the United Kingdom, to the families Black and Lestrange, shall be considered a violation of marriage. If both the bride and groom are so found guilty of such a violation, the principal failure shall be ascribed to the groom._** "

"The final relevant clause, section twelve-F thus states,

" ** _No action on the part of the groom or the bride, or any failure as mentioned in the sections aforementioned, may cause the death of the respective spouse. Only a case of accidental death, proven after a thorough official investigation, with Vows of non-interference and complete co-operation on both sides, may absolve either party from responsibility._** "

"In summation I would analyse this matter to vindicate Mr. Black's claim. Section two-C of the nuptial agreement finds the marriage violated and the groom at fault for the same. No evidence of physical adultery has been found. Mr. Black, have you found any affidavit from the previous Head of House allowing Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black to join the Death Eaters?"

"No Mr. Wellington. You shall find the application for a search of the Ministry records and the response. No affidavit was ever entered. It may be noted that it is unlikely that such an affidavit would have been signed, as by the time of the marriage, the Death Eaters had already been declared as an illegal organisation and a terrorist outfit."

"So no proof of any permission exists, if at all."

The committee conferred over the matter for about fifteen more minutes. The proofs stood solidly in Sirius' favour, so there was little, if any, doubt as to the outcome.

"As far as the Lestrange vaults are concerned, this committee recommends the vault leases to be renewed in the name of Sirius Orion Black. The claim made by Mr. Black stands true. The committee also recommends an official investigation into the accusations made by Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy nee Black. As the liquidation of the rest of the estate has not yet been decided, it is recommended that such an action be stayed till conclusive investigations into the matter are carried out.

"Furthermore, should these accusations be proven true, the estate liquidation should be audited and set to ensure that an equivalent amount of money or material property be transferred into the name of Narcissa Malfoy nee Black."

Malfoy sank slowly into his seat, as his face turned devoid of any colour at all. He had no doubt that a similar clause had been in effect for his marriage to Narcissa. He had been cursed by the Dark Lord because of her steadfast refusal. Now he was thankful for it, as much as he was for the fact that there were no retrospective trials.

He could see now, that there was absolutely no way that Black's stand could be doubted. He had been sure of winning for a reason, it was now clear, and there was little that any of them could have done to make a play when this practically unassailable contract was in force.

It was, Lucius grudgingly accepted, as clever a way as any. Despite several attempts, Black had never, ever, been drawn into any confrontation. They had spent time tackling Black and his advisers by putting him into situations. Their opponents had simply tackled the situations and essentially ignored them.

And then, in that moment, he had an epiphany.

He had been predictable.

Someone had been looking out for Black; someone, who had Black's best interests at heart for sure, but even more importantly, had a vendetta against him. This was a dangerous someone, a person who had subverted so many of his moves. This was a person who had used his own pieces against him, made him look stupid for having or using them at all.

Now as he saw the wands raised in response to the vote that was called to pass or reject the committee's recommendations, ruling overwhelmingly in Black's favour, Lucius felt the flicker of hope within him waver. He steeled himself with the idea that nobody would have found out about the clauses Selwyn had put in. He was so focused on only one avenue, he quite forgot the others.

* * *

"I did not know that the Arcturus Black was so opposed to You-Know-Who," George Wolfe shrewdly wondered as they sat together during the recess. Augusta Longbottom had been the last to congratulate Sirius, but that had been because he had promised her half the vault as recompense. She could hardly bound over to him and congratulate him so obviously. That was unseemly.

"I never claimed he was," Sirius replied simply.

"You waxed eloquent about his stand against Bellatrix joining."

"And that was absolutely true. That never stopped dear old grandfather Arcturus from being a complete bigot."

The rest of the stared at him dumbfounded.

"Oh come now, everyone and his pet Krupp, or Kneazle, owl, toad or whatever else, for that matter, knows that I ran off to the Potters when I was sixteen. They wanted me to join up."

"But his edict...?" protested Charles Shacklebolt.

"It was for the _daughters_. It was okay for the sons to be Death Eaters, to be murderous bastards and philander, so to speak, "as long as no bastards came up to claim relation". My grandfather's words, not mine, let me assure you. But the daughters were to be protected at any cost. I did go on a bit about the House of Black not raising its **_daughters_** to be Death Eaters. I never said anything about the sons."

Everyone smiled and grinned at each other awkwardly as Sirius fixed himself a small non-alcoholic drink. Finally Wolfe spoke up again.

"I don't know how you Blacks react to being offered jobs, but I will chance it. I would like you on my network!"

"You might pay me to talk?" Sirius grinned back excitedly. "I will really think about it."

"A Black working?" questioned Augusta. "I thought it was beneath your dignity when you lot positively sleep on a bed of Galleons."

"I have done nothing but stay in a cell, alone, consigned to think my life away. I will never choose to let go of a chance that lets me do something, anything, that constitutes as legal, moral and ethical work. Nothing breaks a man more than idleness and not being in a position to do anything at all."

* * *

Sirius' guardianship application had to make an impact. And he knew that the greatest impact would occur only if he brought it up right in the end, after everyone was done making up ways – or believing they had hoodwinked his new allies into making up ways – to prevent him ever gaining custody.

So for the entire length of time during which the Bill for the Child Protection Act, 1994, was debated, he alternated between being an active listener, and sometimes even defending the Bill's sponsors' positions, voting for the clauses to be kept in several cases – mostly because they made sense, as the process of discussing individual clauses and voting for changes or additions to the landmark bill be kept or discarded. This process of improving the Bill in situ practically guaranteed that it would pass.

That was the beauty of it. The rest of the document, even the rest of the section itself made such sense that it was very stupid to have problems with it.

He had a smug smile of his own in response to the smirks that the likes of Malfoy were trying to hide. After all, he had to bait the trap to draw them right in. And he was the bait, so he had to act like it. It was only a very defective goat that didn't piteously bleat when tied to a tree with a predator around.

So when the discussion, so carefully orchestrated by turning around and bypassing some of the sections that were in the order of discussion, to reach the section one hundred and twenty-seven midway through the afternoon, did reach the former Prisoner of Azkaban thing, he donned his well-practised and well-rehearsed "pale as a sheet look of shock".

He had to gulp down all the laughter that threatened to bubble up as Malfoy looked at him and straightened in his seat with a look of arrogant superiority.

He continued looking ashen as Augusta agreed with the clauses and to ensure that no particular bias could be brought about, suggested using ICW-certified healers – the very same sort that Sirius had sought out as soon as they had found this.

"The International Magical Health Organisation has recently taken great strides in recognising that mental health is as important a factor as physical health for any person. With that intention they have for the past decade, especially in light of the Imperius problems we faced here, conducted a certification and recruitment drive for mind-healers. These are among the best trained in the world. I propose that the professional opinion and a Healer's Certificate be sought from these highly capable healers."

She received polite applause for her stance, with Gibbon even yelling out for the crowd to hear, "I find myself in rare agreement with you, Madam Longbottom."

"In addition to what Madam Longbottom proposes, I believe that it would be prudent to have a second additional opinion from another Healer of a similar stature," Charles Shacklebolt spoke in his deep, cultured baritone.

Sirius slumped further in his seat, twirling his wand in a show of nervousness. For Malfoy, this was an unexpected windfall. If he took enough in bargain from Black, he could prevent Black from ever having enough resources to visit even one Healer, let alone two. Sirius idly wondered how funny it would feel to see Malfoy crashing down.

"I agree," Tiberius Ogden added. "Mind Healing is a difficult branch of medical magic that only lately has earned the importance it deserves. And as far as protecting a child is concerned, double-checking is no onerous requirement."

At this point, Sirius decided to mix things up for fun. Raising his wand, he defiantly argued against the part where a stay in Azkaban presumed guilt. "I believe that I am example enough of this," he said. "I was not guilty, and should I choose to apply for guardianship over Ha- a child," he argued, allowing the very calculated slip, "I will be liable to lose out due to no fault of my own."

"You have to understand, Mr. Black," Gibbon shot back. "You are the exception, not the norm. Or do you believe that this body makes such errors, grievous though they may be, on a regular basis?"

"I would never accuse this august body of such incompetence, Mr. Gibbon," Sirius retorted wide-eyed, as if to portray the idea that he didn't want the Wizengamot angry with him for this on top of the new restrictions. "However, I cannot help but feel as if I have been in some manner targeted."

"This Hall is not in the business of settling personal vendetta through Bills," Aurelius Scott rebuked a bit coldly. "But I can see why such a worry may arise. There seems to be no other case where, if the _Daily Prophet's_ reports are accurate, a former prisoner may be unable to gain lawful guardianship," he agreed.

"It has to be considered over a wider scope, however," Selwyn opined. "As a sponsor, I can only honestly ask what reason we could have to target Mr. Black. He is after all – as Mr. Gibbon said – the exception."

"But Mr. Black raises a valid point. There may be others like him. We are all fairly fortunate monetarily, but a prisoner may not be. I propose the establishment of a loan fund for the same, to be handled by vote by this body," Nott proposed. Now that it seemed that two independent mind healers were required to prove Black was sane, he smelt blood and moved in for the kill.

As such, when the vote did come up, Sirius registered a token abstention which was conspicuous, but ineffective regarding the eventual outcome, just as he wanted it to be. Former prisoners were required to have the certification of health from ICW certified healers.

The debate over the Bill, now in its final stages wrapped up just over an hour and a half later.

"Are there any scheduled matters of business to be presented before the House?"

"No Chief Warlock," answered the bailiff.

"Are there any matters that any member intends to bring forth?"

"Yes, Chief Warlock," Miranda Cromwell, Director of the Families and Genealogy department, which worked closely in matters of inheritance with Gringotts' and which was currently tasked with the guardianship procedures answered. "I have an application for the guardianship of Harry James Potter, minor, by Mrs. Andromeda Tonks, nee Black. Attached are verified income certificates, an attested true copy of the Potter Will from Gringotts' which names Mrs. Tonks as one of the acceptable guardians, and a letter of recommendation by Mr. Sirius Black, in which he states that he shall not contest any change of guardianship, if and only if it is awarded to Mrs. Tonks."

Sirius quite enjoyed the stunned looks on the faces of Charles, Augusta, George, Edmund and Shannon, the new allies, as well as Dumbledore, which complemented the looks of resignation on the faces of several of the "old" allies and the despair on Malfoy's. Damn it but the kid was right. This was great fun.


	17. Chapter 17

**The Endgame – II**

 **A/N** : Thanks to all readers, favouriteers, followers, and the reviewers: acquiringwriter, mwinter1, Harriverse, RCPMione, WhiteEagle1985, DarkRavie, Sir Johnnie, Rori Potter, Cerjerk, wolfecub1, alix33, Child of Dreams and foursail (the only one who commented about the fourth wall breaking). My apologies for not replying as I usually strive to do.

My exam results were declared on the 8th of June, and they are favourable enough to allow me to pursue my educational plans without a hitch for the next two years. **Drinks on me!** Well, virtual drinks, which, when we have virtual money in games, and given the fact that I can't legally drink, and would be skinned alive by my mum if I ever did, is all I can offer.

On the other hand, with competitive examinations and preparations for the same being my schedule for the next two years, I was unable to complete till yesterday, in spite of starting a day before posting the previous one. This is likely to be a recurrent theme over the next two years at least. So I will write long ones instead. I have started the next chapter too.

* * *

"You are going to explain the meaning of this," Dumbledore ordered.

There was not the usual gravity that coloured his voice when he was in strong disagreement with something, or the infuriating patience when faced with a person who he knew was soon going to bend to his will and superior wisdom as people usually did, because Dumbledore had over a century of experience outthinking people and convincing them instead of fighting them.

"You are angry," Sirius observed, noting the abrupt curtness that was rich in Dumbledore's tone.

"I find it difficult to not be, in spite of my attempts at controlling my anger."

"Why?" the younger man asked with genuine incomprehension.

"You made no intimation to me about the fact that you intended to pull this. It makes my position a bit difficult, considering that I did seal the Will which was the only thing I could do to ensure it was not considered a cursed document at that time."

"But I already added a Note of Record that the Will was opened by me, the only living and legally sane holder of the password, and I even duly paid the hundred and fifty galleon fine for contravening a direct Order of Stay by the Office of the Chief Warlock," Sirius argued. "I have even put that note as the only available part of the matter into the public records."

And he had. The number of things that he had signed over the matter had made him question the idea of the glamour associated with bringing the likes of Malfoy down. He had even briefly entertained angry thoughts about Harry who was happily reaping the benefit of not being buried under mountains of paperwork – apart from his essays at any rate. Keeping track of every damn scrap of parchment had almost made him long for the cold, dreary, monotonous, Dementor-ridden, but paper-free days in Azkaban. It scared him. Merlin, but magic should have had some ways to get around this thing. Maybe magically generated paperwork where he just had to swear something, add "so mote it be" and voila. But there was no such luck for him.

So he added the only thought that had cheered him during those dark terrible times when he had spent hour upon hour and what seemed like an endless eternity...filling forms and signing stuff. "I almost wish they try to find out more about things, or make an effort to ask questions through official channels."

"That's precisely what is not required," Dumbledore bit out. "This will needlessly cause Lucius and his cohorts to cause trouble. And this defeat will make them angry and the retaliation will escalate. It will require time to counter – time, that, as you know, given what we have coming up next year, nobody has!"

"And I keep telling you that it is an idiotic thing to do and that you are taking undue risks!" Sirius shot back. Then, realising what he had said and to whom, he instantly apologised. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Dumbledore only gave a curt nod, before his countenance broke to reveal a weary old man, one tired by the recurrent events and wishing for a little quiet.

"Sirius, as much as it may sound like an excuse, these executive decisions lie with "more dynamic, young personalities who want to ensure that the world gets to see the very best of what Britain and Hogwarts has to offer." Truly, my contention that the times have changed and that international cooperation must reflect the present educational values and magical prowess, some degree of sporting capability and a team-wise representation of a school was laughed out as politely as possible. I like this less than the Dementors, and I suppose that must say enough."

"It does."

"So you must understand why dealing with Malfoy, or as the case has been this past year, helping you do so, cannot remain a priority for me this year. I have failed to protect my students adequately when I could hardly imagine the sort of monster that turned out to be the basilisk. Let me protect them from visible dangers at least."

"Actually, it was exactly why I did this, in spite of a strong disagreement between me and Harry as well over the matter." Sirius pre-empted Dumbledore's question, "It is not about living with Andromeda. I have ensured that the two have exchanged letters and, as I expected of him, reasonably, I might add, Harry was perfectly polite. However, he is still a teenager and he had his heart set on living with me that he refused to consider any other option whatsoever. It does help though, that Andromeda and I now live _very_ close by."

"They now live in the Obsidian Gardens?"

"Yes. I invited them to do so, after we obtained a no-objection letter from the Dursleys. They were very invested in the procedure, the Dursleys," he added venomously. "Anyway, Andromeda knows the risks and is not so stupid as to discount them. She has been given enough explanation for her to know that this is part of something much bigger that you and I have planned, and that Harry's involvement is being managed by us to keep him away from it all. She was quite serious about that, and very protective about him, as well."

"That is good. She could yet be targeted. That is one among my many reservations about this. And perhaps I made yet another mistake when I unilaterally decided not to bring the Tonkses into the matter then, considering that the decision was taken after Lucius and Narcissa were both...ah...cleared of any wrongdoing."

Dumbledore didn't need to explain more to either of the men. The Death Eaters were known to target people mercilessly and even one attempt by Narcissa to bridge the void between sisters could have been lethal in many indirect ways. A healthy dose of paranoia had dictated many of Dumbledore's actions at the time, hurriedly taken as soon as he had assumed the position of the Chief Warlock, to put as many restrictions on information about the matter as he could. And while truly many of them had turned out to be mistakes, nobody could argue that Harry had been safe from as many people of the magical world as he could be protected from.

"A more convincing discussion about your motives would be appreciated, however."

"Let me then argue as I did with Harry."

"Please."

"Andromeda was already a target when we showcased her return to the family at the meeting. They chose to ignore the fact that even more than an unemployed single man – the "child's" godfather, yes, but still a single man – recently exonerated of very severe crimes, recently free after over a decade in Azkaban, a middle-aged married couple, one of whom is a Healer and the other a senior member of the Ministry with the Sentient Species Liaison, related to both the "child" and the godfather, with an Auror daughter and a blood status similar to that of the Potters, make a much, much better choice."

"You don't need employment."

"That is rubbish and you know it. Being wealthy does not give me leave to be idle. Income is always required, if for nothing else then at least for me to have my own identity. I doubt I could stand the idea of doing nothing."

"No you can't," Dumbledore agreed. An idle Sirius was a dangerous Sirius.

"I do not see why you being a single man..."

"Really, Albus, you know as well as I do, that such a bias exists. True we do not have as rampant a culture of divorces and splits as the muggles, but even then the male is hardly ever considered to be worthy of childcare and is so often judged against harshly and unfairly, even with all the genealogical obsession most pure-bloods seem to have."

Dumbledore only nodded. Sirius was not being irrational – it was an absolutely true phenomenon. "I can agree with you that at the root of it, the idea still remains that Harry needs a set of guardians, and, now that you say it, I would honestly consider the Tonkses more favourably than you. What else did you think of?"

"Secondly, Harry is approaching adulthood, fast. He is only three years away from that at this point. And you know him. Keeping aside his wish and the ensuing extremely polite argument where he stated clearly that he wanted to stay with me – this was back when I asked you about the ICW healers, by the way, mind – do you honestly believe that Harry is, in any manner, a child?"

The answer was again, very obviously, given that Dumbledore knew his student better than anyone else but two other people could claim, "No."

"Now consider it politically. Bills are not discussed to improve them in general. We first discuss whether we need them to start with. However, you must have observed that the Bill for the Child Protection Act has been already passed to all intents and purposes."

"So how do the solutions suggested by Augusta and Charles and everyone else reflect on us, if you **_show_** that you already possess those credentials? How indeed would it reflect on me, the ICW Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock?" muttered Dumbledore, as he caught onto Sirius' train of logic. He was getting old if such small things were slipping past him. At the very least, he had far too many demands upon his time and his mind.

"It was for precisely this reason that I disagreed with Harry over the matter. He believes that using our allies in this game of smoke and mirrors might alienate them. But I have played it straight right from the outset. Malfoy provided the smoke, he provided the mirrors. Andromeda and Ted were right out in the open to be guessed. They still saw me as the threat, when we made it open that she was going to take the maternal role at this crucial time in Harry's life; when she even spoke about being eager to meet Harry at the meeting. I was only too happy to be the smokescreen they so desperately wanted me to not be."

And Dumbledore could hardly refute any of that. It was impossible to disagree. He just had one reason, and a very good one.

"I wanted you two to be very close as a family, enough for Harry to trust you with his mental defences."

"I know. Moony told me. It has taken time, but in spite of the argument, the idea that I did not see him as a child, but as a growing young man, seemed to bring him around. I have explained why I need to fine-tune and teach him Occlumency. He seems to be coming around. Maybe I should be a teacher here. Teenagers seem to respond better to explanations than orders."

Dumbledore chuckled slightly at what he assumed and dearly hoped was a joke. He was **_not_** letting Sirius Black loose upon his students. Lest it not be a joke, this subject had to be quickly left behind.

"I assumed that supporting Andromeda was only to keep your credentials hidden at the present time, to ensure that if and when Malfoy tries something new, you have something powerful to turn to."

"It was part of the reason, but now I doubt that Malfoy will ever be able to try anything new."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't mean it lightly when I say that I do not see Harry as a child. He has a plan, and it is powerful, that much I shall agree." Sirius seemed distinctly uncomfortable saying something. "It is also a bit..."

"Yes?"

"Well, Voldemort would have been proud of it."

"He has plans to kill...?"

"What? No!" Sirius vehemently responded. "No. At least, I think he has no plans for him to be the one kill anyone."

That did not exactly make Dumbledore feel relieved. He considered Harry as a good person, but it only ever takes one action to slip. He refused to let Harry meander that way. And the potential was definitely there. After all, they were talking about the same boy, who, after spending much of the summer getting to know his innocent godfather, had then blithely blamed the man for a concocted conspiracy plan. He was under no illusions that knowing that Harry was good made him in any way benign or less dangerous; quite to the contrary.

"I meant the Voldemort before he started the killing. The Voldemort who was able to ensnare minds, that's who I am talking about," Sirius elaborated.

"I have not heard of it, which considering our increased interactions on such matters, surprises me."

"I have heard of there being a plan for about a month now, and I am not privy to much, except that his three friends are being used as fronts of some sort. How he got them involved in this without letting them know anything that they would worry their parents or trusted elders about, I honestly have no idea," Sirius plainly stated, if also a little petulantly. "All I know is that it has already been kicked into action. I just get teasers. It makes me wonder whether I really want to know everything, let alone whether I am supposed to."

Intrigue and trepidation were strange bedfellows, but they were so for Dumbledore. "I would like to speak to him."

And he did. This was a very big claim, and it seemed that Harry needed a lesson as soon as possible before he harmed his own ambitions. And he needed to ensure that Harry's ambitions, which in spite of his doubts he did not believe could devolve to murderousness, needed to be tempered and checked and modified before he bit off more than he could chew – especially when children had been brought into the mess as a front. He did not want there to be a situation where he might have to sacrifice a student of his in a political game – and certainly not one being initiated by a student with ideas too big for his current station.

Sirius nodded. A few minutes later, Remus accompanied Harry to the Headmaster's Office.

"Come Harry," Dumbledore bade his student, fairly gravely.

"Sir," Harry politely acknowledged. He was very sure what it all was about. Sirius had said that he would reveal that there was something that Harry was up to, to Dumbledore, if only to ensure that the Headmaster would not be blindsided when and not if Harry needed help. While Harry did not agree with a few things that Sirius thought, especially the guardianship thing, this worked right into his plan as he needed to have Dumbledore present when he executed it.

"I hear you have been, as Sirius claims, planning to step into a nest of vipers, so to speak," Dumbledore lightly commented. "I must exhort you to exercise caution, and indeed, also ask, quite bluntly, I might add, why you are taking steps towards a matter that I firmly believe you should not even involve yourself with." With a biting tone, that Sirius, Harry and Remus knew that Dumbledore would take only in private, and only with those he trusted or cared for or both (one could always trust someone like Voldemort to be an enemy, after all), the venerable man demanded, "Have your developing instincts, which told you that Malfoy was not done causing trouble and gave you a dose of paranoia, told you nothing?"

Knowing that the time to release information about things in bits and pieces was past, especially with Dumbledore, Harry shed any modesty for an equally blunt explanation.

"They did. It is why I am leaning towards curing the disease that is Lucius Malfoy, and indeed all his cohorts, in an entirely decisive way, for once and for all. I do not see the people the way you do, maybe because of me being a student and younger than all of you. It also means my compunctions regarding many actions are very limited, and allow me to think of things in ways that you would consider abhorrent."

"Killing is abhorrent."

Harry smiled. "Death is nothing compared to what I want to do to them. Oh," he continued, dismissing the very expected reactions of rising horror, "I won't have them hurt or tortured physically or mentally – not by an external agency in any case. I won't do them any harm, myself. If all goes well, they will do it to themselves. I do not have plans to kill any person considered innocent of Death Eater activities, questionable as the person's innocence may be, as of now. That would be against the law, and standing against the law, as justified it may seem, will be the first step towards vigilantism – something I abhor."

Dumbledore neither liked the cockiness that Harry was uncharacteristically displaying, nor the malice. He still did not have any confirmation about Harry's plan being on the up-and-up, even if killing them was not the endgame.

"Has this got something to do with the way you are treating those Death Eater-spawned little monsters?" Sirius asked.

"I will not have you do anything to the children."

"I am not, haven't, have no plans to do anything to them, and even post their seventeenth birthday, have no plans to do anything to them, apart from putting forth some debate or discussion on topics that I hope to very legally, morally and – at least partly – ethically convince them to support. And you are going after the wrong person, Headmaster. The real criminal is right among them. I just intend to expose him to them at first."

"We weren't able to prove that."

"Nobody conclusively proved that they were under the Imperius either."

Dumbledore gave a frustrated sigh. "Harry, I will be blunt. I think you are being overconfident, and dare I say..."

"Arrogant?" supplied Remus.

"...cocksure," completed Dumbledore uncharacteristically. "I would know. I set you to fail and you still managed to learn something from it. But this will not be like that. Please. Rethink."

Harry was at a loss. He could see where Dumbledore was coming from, and honestly, if it was him in Dumbledore's place talking to a teenager who'd just started to learn swimming in the shallows, then he surely would have reacted similarly. But he was dismayed as well by the fact that Dumbledore thought he would fail, and that he didn't believe he had a viable plan, even though he hadn't even heard the plan yet. He could see that the Headmaster wanted the same things that he did, but then as Harry said, their positions in life meant that Dumbledore always had, as the teacher to many of his political opponents for seven years, cared for them as well.

He was quiet for a few moments, as he thought for a way in which to sell the idea to Dumbledore.

And then he turned to Sirius. "How many of them approached you?"

"All of them have made very fleeting discreet contact till today. And after a chastening double defeat for Malfoy, I believe they will be more direct. I can see some realignment as far as their united front is concerned. At the very least, Malfoy is likely to be marginalised. But he is dangerous now, a cornered animal; a man with nothing to lose. He has lost quite a bit of the Minister's faith, the Lestrange vaults, any way to force the matter of your guardianship and his unlawfully occupied seat in the Wizengamot."

"Pardon me, but who has approached you for what?" asked Dumbledore

"Over the past few weeks, we have been methodically sowing seeds of doubt regarding Lucius Malfoy in the minds of his...companions, for lack of a better word. Only, my medium has been different. We picked out people like Theodore Nott who detests Malfoy, people like Chrysanthemum Rosier who are irritated with the Malfoy boy and so on."

"We", Dumbledore demanded, picking out the word, "who is we?"

"I am sure Sirius told you about my associates."

"Associates," Remus drily remarked.

"I thought it was not ideal to call them friends when I was essentially using them, albeit with their complete knowledge of the same."

Dumbledore scrutinised Harry with a disgruntled face. "I am surprised that you have gone through something without anyone knowing, except of course your – now that I think of it – rather obvious accomplices. That a group of barely fourteen-year-olds can keep such a secret for three weeks...then again, you could do it last year, why not now?"

"Dumbledore?" ventured Sirius, a bit thrown by this meandering.

"Ah...I was wondering. I had hoped to not be surprised by Harry this year, but he seems to have a distinct predilection towards it, I believe." The man's tone was just toeing the line of sarcasm, often deemed too uncouth for someone of his stature. Then Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "What _do_ you intend to do?"

"I intend to turn them all against Malfoy, at the very least, by showing how he set a device – one that we should not speak about, inside Hogwarts. It was a device that opened the Chamber of Secrets and allowed a Basilisk of all things to slither around the place."

"That is inadvisable. The secrecy that shrouds the device, on my part, is by design," Dumbledore gravely replied. "Do not forget that the others are bound to try and search for anything else like that that may exist."

"A shade of Voldemort himself, Professor, was in the castle in my first year. I am sure a story can be woven around it. If the device itself is skimmed over in lieu of pressing home the fact that Malfoy not just allowed such a travesty to occur but in fact actively aided it, aided the murder of children, including several of the supposedly former Death Eaters' own kin, it would not take much to stoke their anger."

"I am unconvinced."

"The Minister," Harry gamely went on, "is unlikely to want a public trial, but will be invited to watch Malfoy's unravelling."

"Which still leaves them able to try and gain Tom's favour by finding any other devices," Dumbledore objected.

"Not if Sirius goads them all into sacrificing Malfoy – and forcing him to provide proof. After all, I have some other guests I wish to invite to the spectacle. And sacrificing Malfoy must include some sort of...an out-of-court settlement."

"Do you believe that they will not resort to desperate and foul means to get rid of any evidence?"

"I hope they threaten me and all my guests."

Dumbledore's eyes widened as he realised what Harry was pointing to. "That is diabolical."

"Nothing will convince them as much as visual proof can. It is after all for their benefit. And if they aren't then they are already lost."

"What happens after Malfoy is done? The others still remain free."

"This is Lucius Malfoy sir. This is a man who had little to no compunction murdering children and letting another child take the blame only for a little political capital and revenge against a legal judicial process. I am counting on him to be vindictive enough to provide proof against them as well."

"There is no possibility of retroactive trials, Harry," Dumbledore reminded for the umpteenth time.

"There is no need for them, sir. They will be judged by the worst jury they could face, my guests. Thereafter, the accomplices, unproven though they may remain as murderers, will no longer have their greatest treasures with them, will they?"

For a long while, nobody spoke a word. Dumbledore had used a specific word for the plan – diabolical. It was so. And as neither Remus nor Sirius understood what was being pointed at, they were not sure whether it was a good thing or not.

"It is an uncomfortable way," Dumbledore allowed after some time, his face showing the discomfort he felt.

"They will face a fate worse than death, sir, if I am not wrong."

"That they will, and some more than others," Dumbledore agreed painfully. "I don't want to condone it."

"But in a far, far more refined form, it is neither easy, nor completely right, but a solution nonetheless. The means are terrible indeed, but I believe they will justify the ends. It has to serve a greater purpose, and I believe it shall."

Dumbledore closed his eyes as he nodded. He had failed. Harry had done something he had learnt to do – suppress his scruples, and for those desperate times, justify an action for the greater purpose, for the betterment of the people; for – though it was a term he had strongly abhorred for nearly as long as he remembered it, in spite of being the one to coin it – the Greater Good.

There was also another thing that Harry had, which Dumbledore saw separated the boy from his mentor. Harry was ruthless. He was neither violent, nor willing to resort to extremely underhanded – though the degree of underhandedness was subjective – methods. But he was willing to strike at someone's greatest weakness if it suited his purposes. And he had incorporated that into a plan which was in many ways simple and, as he now realised, was also a part of the style that Harry seemed to be developing.

Dumbledore manipulated people by appealing to the goodness of their hearts, by making them believe that he knew best – though this latter way was only used when he wanted to safeguard the people who believed so. His next resort was red-taping. The one after that was pressure or knowledge, the two being used interchangeably. And his last was power. But on the whole, his style was one that required his visible involvement, and after his defeat of Grindelwald, was developed out of reactions. That was another of his hallmarks.

Dumbledore always reacted, as far as possible – even his mentorship of Harry had been reactionary, borne from Harry's actions.

Harry's fledgling ways though were much more subtle, yet brash, in different ways. In all instances so far, Harry had redirected the opponent's aggression upon said opponent, all the while ensuring that he remained squeaky clean. Dolores Umbridge had been goaded into the confrontation. Lucius Malfoy's many ploys were deflected by simply nullifying their most potent threat. And there was a touch of impatience too, which was probably a function of his age.

But Harry was also not content to simply react. And now, with the bare bones of the plan laid out before him, Dumbledore knew that it was in the making months before it had been divulged seemingly piecemeal. And, of course, there were the consistent attempts to garner magical knowledge and power.

Increasingly over the past months, Dumbledore's goals about Harry had become more corporeal. Certain considerations meant that, if somehow all went well, then he would be passing on the baton to Harry eventually. He had never envisioned Harry as an image of him or his next version. But Harry **_wasn't_** him, and it had become quite clear to him, in a shocking moment.

He remembered another student who could have been his successor, who could have gone a different path.

Harry shared traits with both Dumbledore and Tom Riddle. Sirius had read that rightly.

And that meant that the next steps that Dumbledore would have to take would need to be accordingly modified. The next steps would, should Harry succeed in his most important endeavour to date, be to ensure that he didn't step down a very slippery slope. And that was where many good people would be involved. Unlike either Tom or himself, Harry had Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore himself, and the Tonkses, as well as people like the Weasleys, Neville, Hermione and his many new friends, those connected to him through his active efforts to reach out to people, whose welfare also weighed upon him, essentially because Harry cared for people.

And there was also Harry's own admission that he had used his friends – the demarcation doubly important in that it existed in Harry's mind. That was something that would have to be harnessed if necessary to rein him in.

Contingency plans had to be made for everyone, himself included. And Dumbledore had seen enough people go down a terrible path to exclude Harry from that list without due diligence.

Harry waited patiently for the verbal acceptance. It was after all within the school premises, with some parents of current school students and given that he was using the students themselves, he needed the Headmaster's acceptance.

"I assume you need my participation," Dumbledore brusquely stated.

"I cannot rightly point to the extent that your participation can help, but then you are, well, you, so your presence will mean a lot."

"An elaborate description of your plan would help us assess your requirements better and help accordingly."

"Would you be willing to?" Harry asked, unwilling to stretch matters out. Dumbledore was never the sort of person you played games of smoke and mirrors with, or tried to be indirect with, for that matter, in any manner.

"Harry, just because I am not thoroughly convinced does not mean I shall leave you to flounder. I do not see why your perception of me has dimmed so." _And also make plans to ensure that you and all of us come out unscathed, if you fail, as I fear you might_ , he added mentally. Dumbledore was invested in it, all said and done.

"It has not, Professor," Harry hurriedly assured. "But I am just one person, and you have the safety of the entire school to think of. I could hardly assume your agreement. If this works, then a whole lot many people can be saved, and protected from now on. If it doesn't, I only lose some standing for accusing a former Death Eater of attempting child murder, and stating that in front of others of his kind and a Minister about whom there might suddenly be a lot of doubt. If something worse happens, then I become just Harry Potter, a person with no political capital. It comes and goes."

And that was another googly for Dumbledore. Harry was becoming increasingly difficult to read. And it wasn't in necessarily a bad way.

"Commendable though your thoughts are, you do remain a part of the student body that are my responsibility, Harry. Rest assured that I am all ears."

For the next hour and half, the churned the plan over and over and over, ironing out kinks and flaws till Dumbledore found it 'reasonable'.

"I still believe that there should be leverage, in case someone tries to fight out of it, or worse, try to harm young Ms. Weasley."

"I wish so too, but I suppose I cannot provide a more damning indictment of them than this – I do not believe any of them to be better than Lucius. If I do not go after them now, it is only because, let me reiterate, I am no vigilante. I might be a liability in a fight if they go that way, but if they try to fight it out, then I believe they must fall to Aurors' wands. The people already involved are the very limit of people who can handle them, or subdue them, or take the fight out of them; nobody else should be involved."

"I do not disagree, but maybe some sort of audience that can actually make a difference," Dumbledore said with a sigh, before his eyes sparked with some relief. "A group of mothers across the political and belief spectrum, or even grandmothers for that matter, with no bureaucratic or legal antecedents would have been very effective audience, if you want to make it known to everyone."

"You mean like Narcissa Malfoy. I know for a fact that Narcissa is no less of bigot," Sirius replied with a shake of his head. "So long as her child is safe, she would gleefully watch others die, maybe even frame others to ensure Draco gets away with something. The only way she would help another person would be if she stood to get something out of the bargain, nothing more; certainly not for something that is right by someone else's definition. I doubt that she can have a single altruistic bone in her body. You overestimate her as a human."

"But the others?" pressed Dumbledore.

"Narcissa was – is – my cousin. The others I have known of for many years. I wouldn't comment on them with authority, but, there is a reason that these women got along to a reasonable extent. These are all people who have lived their lives out believing that, and have reaped the benefits of the same for as long as they remember."

"That is harsh."

"It is also true."

"What is also true that Harry's plan needs to target the ones who still question but may be on the fence, and the ones who are yet undecided about where they stand or have reason to either change their beliefs or form new ones, you know, those much-vaunted " ** _neutrals_** ", like Greengrass and McLaggen and the rest," interrupted Remus with sneer. "Though, given that we want someone sensible, how about remembering that a certain Madam Director Bones would be in attendance?" suggested he. "She is a woman, obviously, the head of the DMLE **_and_** a close relative of one of the students."

"She would be with the Auror contingent."

"That would hardly be an impediment."

"It would. Let me assure you that last year I had not placed any contact embargo on the students. Mail from and into the castle was checked discreetly of course, but stopping contact would have incited panic. Young Miss Bones could at any time have contacted her, and there would have been an investigation which would have helped. She didn't need my permission for that. Such a situation was exactly what anyone would call an emergency, suspending Hogwarts' nominal autonomy. She didn't even ask. You will remember the Ministry unilaterally suspending it upon Sirius' escape."

"That would be a problem," Harry reluctantly agreed. "If only we could have it published in the papers," he sighed, "with some reporter in attendance."

"I will stop those wretched creatures myself, if Dumbledore allows them in," Sirius declared obstinately. "I am saying that and I have faced Dementors."

" _That_ is harsh," snickered Harry. "Anyway, I wasn't thinking of the Rita Skeeters of the world, but rather somebody from papers like the _Omen Reader_."

"It isn't widely read enough."

"A collaborative effort between the two publications then," proposed Harry.

"There's a greater chance of Snape and James or me being best friends than that."

"Sirius," Dumbledore sternly reprimanded. "His grudges aside, I believe Sirius has a better handle on the situation regarding publicising it. Reportage is inadvisable."

"And a group of, as you put it sir, "mothers across the political and belief spectrum, or even grandmothers for that matter, with no bureaucratic or legal antecedents" would be just as bad. Leaving aside the big statement that Sirius made about female Death Eaters, or rather the paucity of them, what concrete data do we have that there really aren't many apart from Alecto Carrow, or Bellatrix? What do we do if one of them turns up for the big reveal, finds out Tom is alive, and then goes on a vacation to find her master?"

"Harry what I said about women being prevented for matters of dignity is universally true, you..."

"Sirius, Tom Riddle was muggle-raised," Remus interjected, rightly catching onto Harry's train of thought.

"Precisely," the lone student in the room agreed.

"What's that to do with anything?"

"Read up on the Cold War sometime. It was when he tried for power. This is a muggle-raised Dark Lord. If I were Tom, the separation of identities and an exaggerated adherence to agenda would serve to prevent any attention from being drawn by my use of muggle methods. Voldemort lead the purebloods. Tom could have used muggle methods," Harry explained. "Women have, throughout history, been parts of honey-traps. The Cold War was rife with them."

"That is paranoid."

"And it is a confirmed lie from all parties concerned in the Cold War so it is undoubtedly true," Remus explained.

"If it crossed _my_ mind, don't you think it would have crossed that of a Dark Lord?" Harry further pointed out.

Of the visitors, it was only Remus who caught a fleeting arrested look that graced Dumbledore's face.

It was a look that returned with greater intensity when Harry added, "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he had contingency plans where he would become the "socialist revolutionary" parselmouth challenging Slytherin's legacy as Tom Riddle or another muggle name, becoming a guerrilla messiah figure, while at the same time being Lord Voldemort to the pure-bloods. As either figure, he would rule – either through fear or adulation or both. So long as both factions remained at loggerheads and out of balance, he would win no matter what. In a way it is good that either he confined himself to pure-blood supremacy or failed as the revolutionary if he tried."

He received stunned looks from Dumbledore and Sirius at that, and even Remus looked fairly troubled in spite of having similar thoughts, none of which he did see. Soon returning to reality, though, he sheepishly said, "I meandered there."

"I would like to understand what you meant, irrespective of the fact that we have never experienced such, but that is for another time. I will say this though – that reeks of the workings of the mind of a conspiracy theorist. Tom hated the idea of being common, or even having the common name," Dumbledore responded, visibly troubled by the idea. "At this time, we need a way by which we can have more people knowing the true extent of Malfoy's actions."

"I want to protect the rest of them sir. I don't want them exposed. Not now, at least," Harry pled. Then an idea struck him. "Who are the Governors on the Board that were so conveniently threatened last year as to facilitate your dismissal?"

Dumbledore made no attempt to control the twitch of his moustache at that. It was important to keep him in a good mood really. The full scope of the plan would be thoroughly indigestible for the man, after all.

"I believe I have just the way to attract their attention," Dumbledore declared conspiratorially.

* * *

Demetrius Nott, Grant Gibbon, Gareth Selwyn, Sol Jugson, Marian Mulciber, Corban Yaxley and Hugo Parkinson, seven of the eight most powerful leaders of the blood supremacist faction, were sitting in the parlour of the former's home, sharing libations of a decidedly strong pedigree, in the wake of the resounding defeat that Lucius Malfoy, their most visible member had been handed in the quest for the House of Black, which had preceded a very stinging criticism of the entire affair. His angry words were reflections of his sheer terror. An avenue to protect him and his from the Dark Lord's wrath was gone

 _"I have never," Lucius had thundered, "participated in anything so severely mismanaged. We have won the Chamber so many times over the years! How could some green blood-traitor of a former prisoner manage to defeat us? The Act was circumvented, the vaults lost! I had brought a big house, ripe for the picking and you," he furiously shouted, pointing at Selwyn, Jugson and Nott, "squandered it."_

 _All three had had the severe feeling of being the tools blamed by a bad workman. It was their houses which had been placed at Malfoy's disposal, their votes which had been his weapons, and their plans which, even though not fully ready were pressed into action at inopportune moments by him. The unspoken chinks which they always tried to hide from the world had widened into a unbridgeable chasm._

"I believe, Demetrius," Yaxley, pensively contemplating his scotch – for all that he was disgusted by them, muggles were good at making the stuff – offered, "that the time has come for us to take a renewed look at how the positions are now aligned, given recent incidents."

"Call it what it is, Yaxley. It was a thrashing." Drink, and unearned insults, loosened the normally stolid and very, **_very_** measured and careful Gareth Selwyn's tongue. "Every last trap, every last little bargaining chip – they took it without leaving scraps at the table!"

"You are bitter about _your_ trap being so easily read."

"It was never going to work, as a real "trap"," scoffed Selwyn, spitting out the last word with utter disdain. "It was a test. It was necessary to gauge what sort of a creature that was to be dealt with. It was necessary to decide whether the new creature would be a predator, prey or pest." He took a deep swig from his glass with a frown of irritation as he continued his diatribe. "It was necessary to know where exactly things stood with everyone. It needed patience, and utilising the time that was there for using. But no! We are just minions after all, aren't we? We, who have seats in that House, are just instruments!"

Drink certainly was affecting Selwyn's control enough to make his very carefully hidden anguish known. Whatever they thought about each other, they certainly did not speak in any sort of company. Fortunately for Selwyn, his resistance to stiff drinks was shared by his peers.

"We have always been so, if you remember," Nott supplied balefully. "Do not forget that the Dark Lord used the Malfoys as an instrument, as his mouthpieces for a reason."

"How could I forget that?" Selwyn almost scoffed, as he chuckled darkly and mirthlessly.

"You regret it?"

"I always have. The first few days were heady as he let us loose upon an unsuspecting populace, but I have always regretted being the weapon of another man, never mind his ancestry. "

"You do realise that you are uttering treacherous words," Parkinson softly said.

"I am," Selwyn admitted freely. "I do not know where I shall stand if the Dark Lord returns."

"If...?" asked Yaxley.

" ** _If_** ," Selwyn repeated, stressing upon the word. That much openness in one's dealings was not a common occurrence among their number. Clearly, whatever Selwyn spoke had been on his mind for quite some time.

"Gareth," Yaxley cautioned his cousin softly.

"No, Corban; let me speak today," Selwyn shrugged the older man off. "Who among us has not seen the aftermath of the fall of the Dark Lord? Each and every one of us has. Each of us has seen just what has been done in the years since the Dark Lord's fall, what has been achieved for our agenda. Each of us has gone years without staining our souls while we got what we wanted."

"Why are you parroting Dumbledore?" Gibbon demanded snidely.

"Dumbledore is many things, Gibbon," Gareth retorted with a warning in his voice, "but he is not foolish or wrong about this. We achieved nothing but hatred. The killing and killing and looting and everything else...it didn't help the cause at all. It only made people fear the Dark Lord and hate him and hate us."

"But so many mudbloods were killed. We purified..." protested Mulciber.

"Evan Rosier, your brother Maurice, Regulus Black..."

"They all died in the Lord's service," Mulciber cut him off.

Gareth Selwyn smiled grimly. "Exactly; each of these **_pure_** -bloods **_died_**. Pure-bloods killed pure-bloods – and yes mudbloods and half-bloods too, but importantly, pure-bloods – over getting what we got over the past thirteen years. I admit. I am not a particular proponent of blood-lust, indulged in it though I have during those days."

Everyone politely took a deep sip of their respective drinks. They never spoke of their actions as Death Eaters; ever. It was not mentioned, not alluded to, and if any unfortunate idiot showed any such proclivities that could even remotely bring the matter up again, said individual was quietly...taken care of. Except for McNair that; he had a job that pandered to his bloodlust and his lone talent – killing. While a good bit of muggle hunting and baiting was a great pastime once, it was now unviable. It was not worth their salvaged reputations and names.

It was a given that when the Dark Lord rose again, they would have to revert. But till then, they intended to cling to their veneer of respectability. And what Selwyn spoke, as treacherous and blasphemous as it sounded, was entirely true. They nearly choked on their drinks though, when he delivered a last scathing remark.

"I don't need to be the branded slave of another man, no matter his lineage, to get what we should. I refuse to kill on the orders of another – or indeed, to make moves in the Chamber on the say so of a man with no capital or abilities bar the influence of his father that he has failed to live up to."

"You want to break with Lucius."

"What more is left? All along since Black's release, he has been pursuing his own agenda, forsaking our usual decision-making process. Black is Lucius' trigger – the one person who can keep him under his thumb. And Lucius has known it all along. The failure of a man that we now see is Lucius Malfoy as he really is."

"A Lucius Malfoy who allowed Dementors near our children, a Lucius Malfoy who has lost control of the Minister, to all intents and purposes, a Lucius Malfoy who was on borrowed time and dismissed like so much rubbish by Black upon his release," recounted Jugson, staring at the empty glass he was rotating on its bottom edge. "I cannot help but agree."

"Indeed, he no longer sits on the Wizengamot," reiterated Nott, his eyes sparking up with some sort of troubling thoughts. "Why should we allow him to use our seats to cater to his whims and fancies? Gareth's plan was to get close to Black, to find out where he stood, before we could, together, either destroy him or bring him over to our side; he must foster some bitterness over being left to rot. W all know that nothing is permanent in this game. It was an opportunity, and instead, now he has seen us as openly adversarial towards him. We gained nothing. We lost a potential ally – or a scapegoat."

"And Black is dangerous. Especially," added Parkinson, before trailing off and pursing his lips, as a frown stole over his face.

"Especially," agreed Jugson, "when he knows something that might be Lucius' betrayal of us. And he is especially when he makes no bones about speaking about it to Potter, maybe even to taunt us through the boy."

"Or to break us from Lucius?" suggested Parkinson.

"Could be," agreed Yaxley. "But given the fact that Lucius was dependent on the Black name after his father's death, I doubt it is the sole objective. Might be an important one for sure, but it surely won't be the most important one."

There was a sullen silence before Gibbon voiced his opinion. "There is only one person who knows the entire truth. I am putting my neck on the line and assuming the various snippets our children have heard from Longbottom and Potter talking about Lucius betraying us." He received curt nods. "Then the only thing we can do is ask for a clarification which does not constitute of colourful words to evade the question. We have to meet Black."

* * *

The appointment was, for Sirius, unexpected. He was gearing up for a prolonged game of indirectness where there would be a few discreet questions before they would resort to a waiting game till either side blinked. After all, it was a big accusation. As such, he was a bit unprepared for the visit. He did receive them well enough as the situation demanded, though.

"Mr. Black, Mrs. Tonks, this is a suo motu cognisance warrant by the Wizengamot to cease all rendering work on a creature classified as being of XXXXX-class by the Ministry of Magic, Department of the Control of Magical Creatures, Act 213, Section 12, dated the eighteenth of May 1994, as claimed without notification by one Mr. Harry Potter, minor, and to desist from such activity till this matter can be supervised and decided upon. Till a further hearing on the matter of custody of the minor, this warrant is issued to the applicants and to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and the Board of Governors of the school, where both the minor in violation of the Act, and the Beast, are to be found," the bailiff officiously declared.

Andromeda pursed her lips as she summoned a quill and an inkpot to sign. She had been against the plan to spread the word about rendering the basilisk. Harry was not her ward yet, but she felt the responsibility of protecting him from such things deeply.

"Please verbally confirm the receipt of this warrant, Mr. Black, Mrs. Tonks."

They duly did so, Sirius masking his smile with great effort.

"Please sign as the official Wizengamot member and witness, Mr. Jugson."

Sol Jugson signed and then bade the bailiff away.

"I intend to intrude upon your time," he bluntly said.

"I am at your disposal," Sirius mildly offered.

"What are you playing at? And before you fob me off with a flyaway answer, I request you to not insult my intelligence. You have not, since your release, needlessly done anything. How are the House of Malfoy connected to this?" he asked with a negligent gesture at the copy of the warrant Sirius held.

"Are you sure that such an allegation should be levelled at our mutual ally?"

"You used your godson as a conduit to reveal to everyone that Malfoy had done something that violated our alliance. And as I said, we are intelligent enough to work out the connections, Black," Jugson coldly stated. "Do not test me, as a guest though I stand here."

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "You would not believe me, if I told you."

"I have had to suspend my belief enough with this warrant-matter. I promise you my full attention and a fair ear, at the very least."

Portraying the full gamut of emotions that would show nothing but a mixture of paternal pride and worry, and righteous hatred, Sirius jumped straight to the heart of the matter.

"A basilisk was set loose upon Hogwarts, last year..."

A few minutes into the conversation, Sol Jugson had suspended all his work for the day, and had, with Sirius' permission, invited those of the group that had children at Hogwarts over the period of time which saw the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

"What proof do you have?"

"I have seen it, Nott. Harry took me there."

"Your godson...Potter is a Parselmouth?"

He received a few condescending looks from his fellows, as Sirius answered, "Obviously."

"Then how do we know it wasn't him?"

"Are you mentally deficient?" snapped Andromeda.

"Andromeda, please. This is a fair question. And irrespective of the fact that he has nothing to prove, nor is it his responsibility to prove so if called out on, Harry, with as much teenage anger, as I am sure all of might have started to face, challenged that he could prove it with an Unbreakable Vow, when I asked for verification, as the allegations were against both an ally and family."

The guests were eerily united in the sharp inhalations.

"He further went on to challenge me to ask the same question to Lucius. He was sure the man would fail. He wants nothing more to bring down this Death Eater, for that is what he claims Lucius remains even after the supposed absolution he achieved," he explained earnestly, though with a faint smile at the jibe at Harry. "He even made this list of Vows out in anger. It's rather well-made, but I am biased," he chuckled, waving an open scroll negligently.

Many itched to see, but Jugson was the one to read it out loud. "It is indeed," he commented tightly.

Sirius' face grew cold and he bit out, "This does not mean that anyone gets a leeway to demand that Harry take a Vow, or question his word if he refuses such a demand. This I have shown you in the strictest of confidence, because I believe that this affects us all. He has the right to refuse. He has delivered Hogwarts from that terror. He doesn't need to prove anyone anything." He received token agreements, none of which, Sirius knew, were even slightly worth the air displaced to make he gave a tired sigh. "And I can see why you'd want to, but more importantly why Harry would want the matter dealt with ruthlessly. And I am sure that irrespective of the image of our alliance regarding the muggle-born, I am sure that this threat, that unleashed a beast that would never have discriminated of its own accord, and allowed a pure-blood child to be possessed, must be dealt with. I shudder to think of the accidents that could have occurred," he added with deliberate stress.

"Our image has no relation to this. I want us all, with united efforts, to get to the root of this matter," Parkinson vehemently declared as the image of his daughter, dead, flashed before his eyes. The fact that Lucius had talked them into voting for the posting of another set of creatures that were equally indiscriminate around Hogwarts did not escape him.

"I must ask for obvious reasons that our lead suspect should not know of this till such time as he is either absolved or convicted. And, given the fact that this topic still is shrouded in some secrecy, we do not want panic to elicit a reaction from the public against us before we know for sure," Sirius gravely stated. "If possible, and if Malfoy is truly guilty, I want this resolved internally."

He received honest agreements on the matter. They knew enough about the way matters were exposed through the media. They did not want anything hasty to happen either. They soon took their leave, each holding the knowledge that this was the decisive situation, upon whose outcome the true master of House Black would be revealed, to their satisfaction.


	18. Chapter 18

**Pieces in Place**

As always, thanks to all readers, followers, favouriteers and the reviewers: alix33 (whose many corrections keep the story readable), Harriverse, jkarr, flame55, Rori Potter, DarkRavie, Calebros (who reminded me of the time when I was fond of awkward sentence constructions – even more so than I am now), Yana5, Son of Whitebeard, mwinter1 (who always awaits more, even incidentally, on my previous, finished storyJ), FotoDi, glenn1970, RRW, and jadely1.

This Chapter did not originally exist in my plans, but the chapter that was the final confrontation ballooned quite a bit, so I have cut this part and made a new chapter.

* * *

In the days to come, when, upon the Headmaster's express direction, Harry wrote and reminisced about the sequence of events that the culmination of the face-off between Sirius, Harry, and Dumbledore on one hand, and Lucius Malfoy, with the latter supported in the early stages by his close associates since his days as a Death Eater, on the other, he came to realise that the most difficult part was getting all the people to be at the right place at the right time; all the pieces in position, all moving parts synchronised, so to speak.

Dumbledore himself had directed the ruse regarding the rendering of the Basilisk, thereby creating a central theme around which they could now build up through veiled comments, unclear actions and a completely unrelated exposure. After all, they only had their most immediate targets in the loop. But they still needed some degree of legitimacy for the behind-closed-doors not-trial of Lucius Malfoy. And they needed leverage on all the participants in the little drama.

The order in which each of these parties arrived at the table, too, was important. And it was that exact order they were following. The leverage had to come onto the scene at the last moment. And since part of the leverage was such that it had been hidden even from Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus, just like the guardianship matter had been given a twist at the last moment, it was crucial that the timing would be just perfect. Politics is theatre after all, and one misplaced scene destroys any play.

The next target, therefore, was a man who had become conspicuous by his absence in the matters between the Blacks and the Malfoys – one of the latter's greatest investments; the man who held the highest publically elected position in the Ministry, and who was malleable to a certain degree in the interest of both sides, but chiefly his own.

Cornelius Fudge, riding on the crest of the greater public acceptance on the back of Dumbledore's open support, and tempered by the scepticism he had experienced firsthand through his forays in disguise, had chosen to let both sides slug it out, while still humouring Malfoy as best as he could. But he had withdrawn from that particular battle. The way he saw it, his allegiance was going to be with the winner, but he had hoped to have that decision not rest on him. He would get is wish. And he would also learn to be careful for what he'd wish, thereafter.

* * *

"The Minister and the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports are at the school gates, Headmaster. Hagrid has just let them in," the portrait of Armando Dippet informed his successor. "Both seem very...perturbed."

"I would be surprised if they weren't," Dumbledore replied simply. He stood and floo-called Sirius. "It is time. Cornelius is here."

Just as Sirius had become the face of Dumbledore's plan to temporarily encroach upon any allegiance that Malfoy's allies held towards him, Dumbledore was returning the favour by becoming the lightning rod for the ire that Sirius' two-pronged line-of-attack – one of which benefitted Dumbledore, the Headmaster, as it benefitted Hogwarts – on the Minister. He had to commend the method too. Sirius had used the Ministry's mouthpiece to target it. Barnabas Cuffe regretted ever following through on the vendetta Lucius Malfoy had asked him to pursue against Black.

Dumbledore was also impressed by the progress Sirius made – borne out of sheer determination to help. And even though the former prisoner still routinely underestimated his contribution, he was always likely to get a sudden burst of inspiration and get something like subverting the _Daily Prophet_ done. He shook his head. There was a lot to do, and he needed to portray being in control as he habitually did.

Presently, Sirius' unfolded from his fireplace. "Did he blow his head off? Is he angry enough to spontaneously combust?" he asked excitedly.

Dumbledore only chuckled as Dippet gave the pair an odd look, then turned a pitying gaze upon Dumbledore and said, "Better you than me. I doubt I could muster the patience to deal with this lot."

"I do not know," Dumbledore answered. "I daresay we shall know within minutes."

Cornelius was certainly in far more hurry than that. The door had barely opened before he stormed in, waving the morning's edition of the _Prophet_. A vein throbbed in his forehead dangerously, and Dumbledore mentally cursed Sirius both for the imagery of the combusting Cornelius, as well as for putting him in a position where he wished to do nothing better than to snort, and posterity demanded he not do so. A glance at the man, who sat to the side ignored by the new entrants, gave the Headmaster the reassurance that his choice of the tutor for Harry in mind magic was certainly a capable one.

"What," snarled the Minister, leaning over the table at the Headmaster, "is the meaning of this?"

Dumbledore stared back calmly at Fudge, gave him a considering glance, and then took a sip from a conveniently placed cup from the tea service, before – even more calmly than he looked – offered, "Good morning, Cornelius. Would you join us for tea?"

"No, I bloody well won't! You have ruined me!" the Minister cried.

Dumbledore's implacable expression veered ever so slightly towards a scowl. "If I remember well, I have been speaking in your defence, Cornelius, especially, even when you were recently accused of financial malpractices. Consider that before making unfounded accusations."

While that didn't completely throw Cornelius off track, it certainly reduced him to bluster. Sitting down heavily into one of the visitors' chairs uninvited, he glare balefully at Dumbledore. "Why?" he complained.

"I doubt you're so remiss in your manners as to not greet my other guest after barging in such an unseemly fashion, or to demand answers from me for some imagined slight to your person," chastised Dumbledore. "Now, I see you have Mr. Bagman with you. If I were to hazard a guess, is this regarding the security detailing for the World Cup final that was forwarded, admittedly on my insistence, to me for additional assessment and which I have returned with some recommendations?"

Bagman cowered a bit as he became the cynosure of a narrow-eyed intimidating stare, as Dumbledore added, "While the publicity and camping logistics were adequately handled, the little menaces called security and crowd-management were ignored, presumably because of the inconvenience they cause during planning. Any random miscreant would have taken advantage of the extraneous additions which I have recommended the avoidance of."

That was obviously not what had brought Cornelius to Hogwarts, which obviously Dumbledore knew. The confusion which etched itself on the Minister's face was amusing to watch. "You changed the plans?"

"It was an open invitation for anyone to try and bring down the greatest event that Britain has organised after the fall of Voldemort. I gathered that it was designed to prove to the world that we are as safe as safe can be. I have been a friend of Alastor Moody for too long to not be paranoid enough. Do you object to my insistence on security changes for the Final, Cornelius?" Dumbledore demanded in a faintly agitated and _very_ disappointed tone, ignoring the customary flinch at the name. "I was of the belief that a secure arrangement and a riveting game of Quidditch with both the players and the spectators all safe and sound would reflect well on us all. I fail to see any capital being gained by humouring a four-member committee, two of whom have written back to indicate their support to the proposed changes."

By now, Cornelius had regained enough of his bearing to realise that completely different topics were being addressed. Having also realised that his immediate reaction was highly childish, he set about rectifying that first. Very contritely, he gave Dumbledore a slight nod before responding. "I am afraid that we got off on the wrong note, there Dumbledore, and I apologise, because my agitation was the reason. Whatever changes you may have made, I am sure will be for the best. I have not had a chance to review them yet, but I am sure that you must have addressed the issues that we all overlooked and we could perhaps discuss them later in detail. In fact, your personal intervention serves only to relieve me and bolster my confidence that we can successfully host the final."

It was left unstated that Cornelius had not even known of such changes, and both Sirius and Dumbledore let him have the moment. All three of them knew it and refrained from addressing it any further.

Dumbledore nodded and spread his hands wide in as close to a shrug as would be dignified for a man of his stature, before pouring Cornelius a cup of tea, with a dash of milk and a sugar. "You need your frayed nerves calmed, Cornelius. Your tastes are a mystery to me, though, Ludo. Observing the breakfast habits of my students, without Poppy's expressed concerns, is not one of my habits, and I daresay, even if I knew the way you take your tea, it might have changed since."

"I always prefer something stronger in the morning before work than tea, Albus," Ludo Bagman grandly declared, with what he considered to be a conspiratorial smile.

While the man himself did not recognise the silent, judgmental look Dumbledore levelled at him, Fudge and Sirius did and unconsciously edged away from him, even as Dumbledore asked an elf for two fingers from the bottle of Gammel Dansk, a peculiar variety of Danish breakfast liquor, he had left unopened. Choosing to ignore the man thereafter, the Headmaster focussed his attention on the Minister.

"Perhaps you could enlighten me regarding the matters which made you accuse me of leading you to ruination, now?"

Cornelius' face turned red in both anger and embarrassment. "This!" he hissed, waving the newspaper like a protest banner at a rally.

"May I?" Dumbledore asked for politeness' sake, before unfurling the newspaper to read the article on the first page which continued onto the fifth.

The article _was_ well done. It lambasted the Ministry, Dumbledore (he'd known of course, and therefore it was worded to ensure that it was only token criticism), the French and the Bulgarian Ministries and the Beauxbatons Headmistress and the Durmstrang Headmaster regarding the TriWizard Tournament. Sirius had not been directly quoted, of course, but a concerned source had wondered about the regression into planned underage violence and allowing potentially dangerous creatures around Hogwarts for the second year in a row after the Dementors. The _Prophet_ had then compiled a lengthy and gruesome of injuries and deaths that occurred over the TriWizard Tournaments in the past.

The fifth page had then gone on to ask some hard-hitting questions about Dumbledore himself, after quoting a "source close to the aging Hogwarts Headmaster, who should perhaps consider stepping down". Why has the most powerful wizard in Britain, in spite of having reservations against the tournament, allowed it to take place? Why is he shirking responsibility and withdrawing from the decision-making process? Why is he allowing the Ministry to harm his students again and again? Is it the onset of senility? Will the tournament mirror an aging Headmaster with a last hurrah?

"I hardly see any of these questions being aimed at you, Cornelius," Dumbledore remarked conversationally as he snatched up a quill from his table and happily started off with the crossword puzzle.

"Really now, Dumbledore," Cornelius burst out angrily. "A source close to you gave a quote..."

"And how many years have you been in the Ministry to know – or not know, for that matter – how close these sources really are?"

Cornelius only grumbled. He was adroit enough to know that Dumbledore was neither accepting nor denying anything. "But it was meant to be an official secret," he nearly whined.

"That it was. But I see no reason why that accursed tournament should be reinstituted in its known form, and so, even if I have not spoken to or asked for the matter to be spoken about to the offices of the _Prophet_ , a newspaper, which even you must readily accept does not believe enough in my admittedly demonstrated faculties enough to allow me to go through a week without reading about a reference to my resignation from Hogwarts, and still wishes for me to take all the responsibilities associated with the Wizengamot, I am unable to either sympathise with your plight with the premature divulgence, nor feel any regret for the same."

It took the Minister a minute to work through that sentence.

"Nobody wants you to resign from either of those posts, Albus, least of all me," Cornelius declared stoutly. "That you are here at Hogwarts while we host the resuscitated tournament addresses the worries of many parents."

"You give me too much credit, Cornelius," Dumbledore cut through the buttering ritual like a hot knife, with an uncharacteristically blunt tone. "But my objections remain. I do not want that tournament here. I do not want those dangers here, at my school. At least afford me the courtesy of hearing me out."

"If I may, Minister, Headmaster," Sirius interrupted as he carefully set his cup on the saucer, "I had come here to discuss this precise situation. Having some idea about the tournament and its history, I had intended to discuss these matters with the Headmaster, before advising my cousin regarding her decision to withdraw Harry from Hogwarts, at least for the duration of the tournament."

"You cannot be serious!" blurted out Bagman and Fudge simultaneously.

"I assure you, gentlemen, I am. Forgive me for such a boast, but among the many factors that the Goblet of Fire considers among its candidates, Harry does seem to fulfil more than a few. We do not wish to see him risked."

"But he is underage! He wouldn't be eligible anyway!" countered Fudge.

"Ah...I was unaware of that. That certainly reassures me to a great degree." He picked a biscuit off the tray, bit and chewed it sedately before asking, "However, I assume that the format of the tournament is to remain the same?"

"Yes," answered Bagman excitedly. "The new generation of adult witches and wizards, the very best of them, will be pitted against the dangers that shall separate them from the rest. It will be a test of their mettle!"

"Dangers, you say," Sirius hissed dangerously. "And what dangers, do you expect a seventeen year old school kid to face, Ludo? Your judgment has not proven to ever be sound or sane in the past!"

"Look here now," blustered Bagman, "Crouch had made a perfectly good..." he trailed off as the three others in the room gave him incredulous looks.

"Are you talking about the corrupt terrorist co-conspirator, the recently executed Bartemius Crouch making a plan, Bagman, and you following it?"

"When you put it that way..." muttered Bagman defensively.

"How else is there to put it?"

"You don't see the spectacle, Black! We will be providing tickets for people to watch our new young Wizards battle dragons and..." Bagman started heatedly, but was stopped by a very dangerous look in Sirius' eyes.

"Now I know why Dumbledore doesn't want this thing happening. And thank you for describing what passes for "plans" as far as you're concerned, Bagman."

Sirius dismissed the man completely as he turned his attention towards the Minister. For the first time, Fudge saw the man who had injured Voldemort himself. He was prone to sudden tempers, and Azkaban had exacerbated that greatly. However, his regained position within society, the historical significance of his family's contribution to society, and the fact that he also was appreciably a powerful _adult_ wizard in his own right, meant that his high-handed responses would work in ways that Harry's or even Dumbledore's (in spite of his personally achieved status) would not.

"I will not indulge in politics over this; at all. Consider this a threat, or a warning or whatever else you may want to think of this as. Scrap this. Scrap this idiocy, this dangerous, murderous idiocy that you are foisting on Hogwarts, or I shall go public, with my name, with a memory of this meeting, and accuse you both of conspiring with Barty Crouch Sr. Even if you manage to bring the competition here, I will personally ensure its failure as nobody from Hogwarts, and if I can manage it, even Beauxbatons, will participate in this farce. And at the end of it, I will personally pursue a no-confidence motion against you.

"Do not forget that many of your trusted advisers are my allies first and foremost, and you will potentially be putting the children and young relatives of several of them, as well as many others across the spectrum in harm's way. And forget about politics and allies. If you move against the school or anywhere else for such addle-brained ideas for self-glorification, I will oppose you, publically."

Another reason why Sirius' intimidation would work was something Harry would never gain. Sirius, with his regained health, was physically imposing and exuded a kind of charismatic presence that some are born with. And people naturally do get scared of a person who towers over them, on an instinctual level. Nature has ingrained us all with the larger predator, smaller prey stereotype. And especially so if the person is genuinely in some form of authority or wields even a little power, and does not need to raise his or her voice to get the point across.

So, when an angry Sirius stood and towered over Fudge (who was a head shorter even when standing), it was designed to scare. And to accentuate his image as the "Gryffindor Black" for those who set store by that inanity. That it helped to establish the idea that he would fight for what was right would further bolster his credibility.

"Correct this. Now," Sirius growled, so much like Padfoot. "Or I will end your career."

"Sirius," Dumbledore cautioned. "Do not threaten the Minister for something that can be both easily corrected, and just as easily can be argued to not be his planning. Do not take the normal public response of a metonymy, not when you know better."

Those words did not calm Cornelius much. What Sirius had pulled was (and never would be) just not done in politics. The response, more in line with that of a people's person, which is what most politicians with good intentions tend to portray themselves as in their early days, before eventually being pulled into the vortex of muck, had shocked the Minister a lot.

And that was the exact reaction they wanted. Coming from Dumbledore, whom many tended to see only as the powerful but benign wizard – as just a Headmaster – when it was convenient to do so, such a threat would have seen Fudge digging his heels and going on the defensive. Coming from someone who had the means to hurt the Ministry and his reign by realigning his confidants' allegiances had Fudge on shaky ground.

Sirius had heated and softened the iron piece. And now it was Dumbledore's turn to shape it.

"Cornelius," Dumbledore gently addressed the Minister. Fudge turned his attention, only very, _very_ gradually regaining his bluster, back to Dumbledore. "I confess myself very disappointed that you are letting people who are answerable to you run amok. I knew the young, hard-working Cornelius Fudge as a student, as a rising member of the Ministry, and as the man who chose to take tough decisions as the Minister. Quite contrary to your accusation that I am ruining you, it is your lack of control over such people with little touch with reality, which shall ruin you. I find myself wondering what your criteria for choosing people around you are, considering this is the second person we find in your people who is only incompetent at best."

"I am..." started Bagman indignantly.

"A partially inebriated man with stunted morals, who, upon being given a position of responsibility has chosen to shirk from his duties, both with the World Cup and this Tournament," scolded Dumbledore severely. "You are answerable to the public, Cornelius. This Tournament will hold you responsible, as will the public, for better or for worse. You have to have better control than this."

"I cannot be everywhere, Dumbledore!" Fudge replied in frustration. "I cannot personally get involved in every committee that is tasked with the minutiae! This job was given to the Department of Magical Games and Sports for a reason!"

"Then the Department either has a failed hierarchy or has not done the job, I am afraid. Now that Ludo has divulged a part of the plan to people not in the know, I find myself not bound to the secrecy in present company. There has been no planning for the tournament that was to be resumed after two hundred and two years, Cornelius. The entire plan has been copied, task for task, from the Tournament in 1786, the last one held in _Beauxbatons_. Not even a single change has been included. The age line was your idea, not Ludo's. Your admirable precedent has not been followed."

It was now Ludo Bagman's turn to cower under the incredulous stare of the irate Minister.

Fudge had quickly become very visibly angry. And he was also trying to rein that anger in, just as visibly. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Now, Cornelius, really!" blustered Ludo. "Who is going to know or remember that tournament? All those people are dead anyway!"

Deciding that perhaps calling the man an idiot would lead to an angry outburst, Fudge only chose to tersely ask, "And did it escape your notice that all schools have a record of the events of each of the tournament?"

Bagman seethed and refused to answer. It reduced Cornelius back to the situation he was in back in 1990. "Please leave. Convene a departmental meeting, I will be addressing it. And for Merlin's sake, please do not breathe a word. I might have to get into this myself." Bagman grumbled and left, before Cornelius turned to Dumbledore naturally. "This is a Merlin damned disaster!" he harshly exclaimed. "We don't even have time to change the logistics and come up with a new plan, at least not one that I can have approved as quickly! Damn these fools! Copying the French plans, I ask you?"

Sirius and Dumbledore allowed the Minister his venting till he calmed down about a minute later – at least enough to listen to sense. Both noted, however, that it was not the idea of barely adult students facing dragons, but that of copying French plans which perturbed Fudge the most.

"If it does not bother you and if, indeed I may be so forward, Cornelius, I envisaged this very situation since I found out about the full plans three weeks ago. The situation is still salvageable, if indeed you may find it not as damaging to your ministry to undertake an assignment at my direction."

"I am at your immediate disposal," Cornelius desperately replied.

Dumbledore drew a sheaf of parchments from a drawer in his desk. "I was a bit proactive in this matter and contacted Madame Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff immediately after the plans were sent over to the three Heads of Schools, and intimated the idea that it might have been a bureaucratic miscommunication and that the wrong documents might have been sent. From people like Sirius, Minerva and others that I believe I can trust, I have discreetly drawn ideas and compiled them. It is my belief, that instead of a gladiatorial competition, the Goblet of Fire should only choose the leader of each school's contingent. The contingent itself will comprise of students of all ages, and the competitions shall include Quidditch, Academic competitions and such, which shall all work towards the contingent leader's sole participation in tasks.

"For example, you very well know that the Snitch can be used to store small things. Each team shall play two games and the winning team will get a set of clues, as will the one that catches the snitch, if the two sides are not the same. I have detailed it in the document. Based on these clues, the leader will work out the actual task and prepare accordingly. Greater participation will allow a true competition between schools. While the tasks themselves will be difficult, they won't comprise of such brutality as facing dragons. I was thinking more on the lines of 3-X or 4-X creatures and not beyond, which will not prove as difficult to import for the duration of the tournament."

His face showing the palpable relief that he felt, the Minister took the documents. "What do you need me to do?"

"I shall readily admit that I have not taken into account several logistics related factors. You need to streamline the plans, which I have based upon the muggle Olympiads. Then you need to be the one who will personally convince the other two countries of the change in plans, while stating that the final plan **_was_** the plan all along, and support the claim of bureaucratic miscommunication."

"I will personally look into this. Thank you, Headmaster," Cornelius agreed, almost giddy with relief. "I will get back to you on this within three days at the latest."

"I would have said take your time, but it is not a luxury we have."

The Minister nodded jerkily. He then turned to implore to Sirius. "I request you as well, for some time, Mr. Black. Such a disastrous case of ineptness and mismanagement was not the situation I was led to believe. I agree that we should not be endangering our own children. I just need time to rectify this mess."

"You were a victim of the bureaucracy yourself, Minister. I apologise for my harsh words which did not truly reflect my intent. However, knowing what I know now, I rashly misjudged your role. I do not like people who endanger or attack children."

Cornelius took the apology gracefully.

"That however, brings us neatly to a point which we agree upon. We should not endanger our children. And we have some grim news on that account; good news, but grim news," Sirius reported, unsubtly dragging the subject to his part in the plan.

Cornelius did not show anything more than exasperated resignation, to his credit, but in reality he would have whimpered. Really, sitting there in a place where several variables for the equations he had known all along were often redefined was not where he wanted to understand the true meaning of the proverb, "no news is good news".

"I think I will judge it once I hear it."

Sirius shrugged in a manner that quite plainly said _suit yourself_. "Do you want to tell this to him, or do you want me to tell it?" he asked Dumbledore.

"I am sure that since you are in contact with those in question, it would be better if it came from you."

"That's fair. Minister, do you remember what happened last year?"

"Which part of it, exactly?" Fudge asked apprehensively.

"Let me rephrase the question. Do you remember what happened exactly in the previous school year here at Hogwarts?"

"You told me the Chamber of Secrets matter was resolved!" Cornelius reminded Dumbledore.

"So it was. You may not have noticed the first information report that the Wizengamot has filed on a suo motu basis regarding..."

"The rendering of a 5-X beast!" completed Fudge. "It was that beast?"

"That is an astute inference," Sirius commended Obviously it was that beast. Dumbledore's ill-judged attempt at providing superlative security to the Philosopher's Stone aside, the Hogwarts building itself was not exactly a haven for dangerous beasts. Anyone with half a brain would realise it. But to make a man in someone else's pocket compliant to them, they had to bend him till he nearly broke, before throwing him a bone to make him feel better.

"Do you mean to tell me that Harry has tackled a 5-X beast and killed it?"

"Yes. I mean exactly that."

"What was it?" Fudge demanded suspiciously. "I do not know the full details, so please, entertain these questions. What was it? How did he find out what it was, and how to combat it? How did he reach it? How was it released upon the targets? Who was the murderous criminal?"

"All of these are very good questions," agreed Sirius. "I shall answer a few, and I beg that you hear me out before passing judgment of any sort. Please understand that I have been asked and have given the same answers to the satisfaction of quite a few of my peers, including the likes of Demetrius Nott as well as Augusta Longbottom."

The only response was a short, curt nod. The breadth of the political spectrum, stated so bluntly, was not lost on the Minister.

"The beast was a Basilisk; Salazar Slytherin's own Basilisk, to be precise. You may not know this, but Harry is a parselmouth, a fact known to the entire student populace at this point, and indeed for much of the previous year. Since several messages about the Heir of Slytherin and what-not were scribbled upon the walls, as you may know, Harry faced a lot of persecution. However, it also allowed him to hear the intent of the snake as it travelled through the plumbing."

"May I add that we have since conducted a thorough check of the plumbing to ensure that there are no untoward surprises," Dumbledore added.

Both could see that Fudge was already having doubts about Harry's involvement in the matter.

"It was actually Hermione Granger who worked out what the creature was – a few minutes before she herself was petrified."

"Who is...?"

"Hermione has been one of Harry's best friends since their first year. She is widely considered to be one of the cleverest witches of her generation."

"Any relation to the Dagworth-Grangers?" prodded Fudge.

"She is muggle-born."

"Ah..." responded Fudge uncomfortably.

"To cut a long story short, after the attack on her, Ron Weasley..."

"Arthur's son?" asked the Minister for clarification.

"Yes. Ron and Harry worked to trace this creature, both in a fit of childish vengeance and also to end the persecution. They found the Chamber and Harry, being the only one who could hear and understand the basilisk, entered its innermost sanctum and killed it."

"How did he kill?"

"I will be a blunt about this, but are you feeling a bit suspicious towards Harry?" Sirius questioned severely.

Cornelius felt a bit uncomfortable as he could not actually say one way or the other.

Sirius sighed exaggeratedly. "I can understand. I do not like it, but I understand. I know for a fact that Harry killed it, but was not the one setting it upon Hogwarts, for sure. And there are two reasons. For one, I was sceptical at the outset as well." That was a bald lie. "I did not suspect him, obviously, but I thought that he may have found out, and led a professor to it. So I probed a bit, at which point, he grew angry as most teenagers seem to do at the drop of a hat. And he asked me bluntly – you know how blunt he can be," Cornelius nodded, knowing exactly how blunt Harry could be first-hand. "So he asked me whether I thought he was lying. I was in a similar position as you are in now, I couldn't actually say yes."

The Minister relaxed a bit as he realised that he would not face Black's wrath for not believing Harry. And knowing the boy as well as he did – and having interacted with him more than many could claim – he was also sure that Harry would give proof of his innocence.

"I asked him to prove it. I don't know where he found out about it, but he asked me whether an Unbreakable Vow to prove the truth of his memory regarding the incident and regarding his own innocence would suffice. He was willing to give it then and there."

"A...an Unbreakable Vow?" gasped the Minister. This was serious. This was dangerous if wrongly done, and Harry was tremendous political capital personified which he would not see harmed. "He is that willing to prove?"

"I was naturally shocked, as you are. I confess I did not take the Vow from him then, nor did I do so when he further claimed to know the true perpetrator of the crime, a fact he is willing to back up with another clause within the same Vow."

"But why...?"

"He has come to understand, after I explained myself to him contritely enough, that since nobody else – at least no light witch or wizard that we know of – understands Parseltongue, the onus lies on him to prove his word. He accepts it. And he is going to do so when the Wizengamot inspection panel comes on the ninth of June. He is willing to prove his word."

"Sirius, this is insanity! He is a child!"

"I have seen the basilisk, Cornelius. I cannot call him one. And if you doubt the legality, then the Vow is binding irrespective of age."

"I don't doubt Harry at all, but if the clause is worded..."

"He has the document written, for which I have the consent of all my allies." He showed the piece of parchment to the Minister. In essence, it stated that his claim that he had killed the basilisk was true, that he had not attacked anyone was true, and that he would name only the true perpetrator or perpetrators and would also never name anyone else after making the claim.

"He...he is sure about it?"

"Yes. _**He**_ is," Sirius stressed. "This, again, I shall say, as I told my allies. It does not give anyone leeway to demand it. It does not fall on him to prove his valour, but on the perpetrator to prove his innocence. His willingness should not be translated as mine or Andromeda's permission."

"But of course," Cornelius replied immediately, in a rare burst of brilliance. "I would never stoop so low as to demand a Vow from a boy not even an adult. Harry has the right of refusal of course, and if you ask me, he needs the protection too."

Sirius gave him an approving nod. This made things difficult regarding pinning Fudge down from the fence he sat on, but at least the Minister had neatly washed his hands of any demands.

"Do you know who did this?" Fudge prompted.

"I asked. He told me who. It is for that very reason that the clause about the perpetrator or perpetrators has been added."

"Who was it?"

"I would advise that you wait till then."

"Would it not be wise to have people witness it?"

"You will remember all my allies being signatories for the Vow, should Harry choose to be so coerced into proving his word, because I stand steadfastly against this? They have all been invited as observers on my behalf regarding the case. The Board of Governors need to be there. We would appreciate some secrecy on the matter." Cornelius' trusted advisors were, not accidentally at all, among the same people. So the one caveat, regarding alerting his advisors, never was in question. "However, we are arresting a terrorist, and a _very_ reliable team of Aurors to ensure that this remains strictly legal will be appreciated. It will be better if these Aurors are neither known to be in anyway related to my allies, nor muggle-born. The identity is sensitive in that regard. In fact, if Madam Bones and Professor Dumbledore were to select Aurors, they would be best."

"I will see what I can do," Cornelius promised. "Can you not divulge...?"

"I have promised Harry. If he is willing to give the ultimate proof, which indeed is proof enough for me, I can hardly break this one promise, can I?"

Cornelius conceded the point – not because he agreed with it, but because pressing it would be unseemly. "You said there were two reasons. What was the other?" He did not expect the rather jubilant expressions on the faces of Sirius and Dumbledore, nor the long velvety box the latter retrieved from behind the portrait of Armando Dippet.

"Ah...that, Cornelius, would be my pleasure to announce. I want your sacred word – both as a Wizard and the Minister – that you will never speak of this, ever, until Harry decides to let the world know, in his own time. It is especially important if you don't want a Goblin revolt."

"You have it," the Minister fervently replied, his face pale at the prospect of a Goblin revolt.

"Magic, it seems, likes symmetry through the course of history. It was Godric Gryffindor who defeated Salazar Slytherin, as history claims. And to defeat the beast of Slytherin, Harry used," Dumbledore explained, dramatically pulling off the velvety cover to reveal the glass case within, holding the gleaming, "the Sword of Gryffindor!"

"Dear Merlin!" gasped the Minister, as the biggest "proof" of Harry's light-oriented tendencies was revealed, just as Harry had argued it would when they were fine-tuning this pre-planned scene. "Is he then the Heir of...?"

"No. The Gryffindor family is dead. But few exemplify the qualities prized by Great Godric the way Harry does, and especially, in the face of danger, for that was when the custodian revealed itself after hiding in plain sight for all these years. Not quite of the Arthurian legends, but the custodian deemed Harry worthy."

"And who or what was the custodian?"

"It was me, Minister," the Sorting Hat spoke.

Cornelius stood shakily in response as his hands inched towards the case, before he abruptly drew it back. "Great Merlin!" he breathed, and the note of reverent admiration was ever so audible, even as he peripherally heard some cautioning words.

With that, Dumbledore and Sirius knew that they had their quarry, as Cornelius in an awed voice declared, "Who'd doubt this proof?"

* * *

"You are the second coming since Merlin. You are the next Dumbledore. You are Godric Gryffindor reincarnated," Sirius drolly told Harry at the end of the day's classes. "Once they see the damn basilisk, you are going to be deified." Then as an afterthought he added, "Oh, you are Arthur too."

"That won't happen," Harry stated simply. "If we religiously pursue the plan, there will be punishment. You know that the plan intends to expose many of them and set them all against one another, unable to trust anyone at all truly, isolated by their own paranoia. Do you think nobody will recognise my role in it all then?"

"But won't it be better to be seen as a golden wizard?" wondered Remus, consistently countering Harry, if only to temper his activities.

"I would rather never be seen at all. And no, I am not as powerful, or as accomplished as the Professor is, to be called his successor, or even considered a lowly apprentice."

"You are as powerful as you believe yourself to be, Harry. Modesty through understatement and modesty that denies the truth are two very different things. Do not mistake one for the other. Magic is as much as one can imagine and then beyond; as much as one believes, and then beyond that as well. Never deny being powerful – rather use it to build an image. The image is always more powerful than the person, often."

"Something like the Wizard of Oz?" remarked Remus.

"A truly delightful tale indeed, but one finds life to rarely be so accommodating as to have good things happen by chance."

"Even if I were," Harry responded, not responding at that instant to the exchange, but taking on board that gem of advice, "I would hate to be considered as golden as you, Headmaster."

"And why would that be?"

"Your image has always seemed like a restriction to me. People always seem to take you for granted. Oh, something's going wrong? That's alright, Dumbledore's there to help. Oh this didn't work out? Why didn't Dumbledore do anything? In a way, you are deified, and in that you are dehumanised. If you take a strong stance, then it is a sure sign that you are out to seize power."

"You feel strongly about this."

Harry just shrugged and nodded uncomfortably.

"It is not untrue, and in my most uncharitable moments, I am perturbed as well. But this comes with the territory of being a visible public figure, or a teacher for so many of them as I am. Perhaps my being a teacher at the time of my final duel with Grindelwald has contributed to the problem, I do not know, but I have never set out to cultivate that image. It happened, and I had to react. And I truly doubt you can escape that – the boy-who-lived, after all, is part of the modern day lore."

"That is a definition I want to break away from."

"Then you have to choose your destination in life early. I can say that you have chosen the subjects that give the widest scope, but have you decided what you want to do after Hogwarts?"

Harry shrugged again, and then reached out to the dish of sherbet lemons on the table. "May I?"

"By all means," allowed the Headmaster.

"It seems to change every day, but I definitely won't be an Auror. Some days I want to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher here; some days it is professional Quidditch or duelling; some days it is some form of magical technology; often it is economy and sometimes a healer or independent researcher. I have thought of curse-breaking too, but I have no intention of becoming a magical Indiana Jones."

"Interesting choices," Dumbledore remarked. "The Ministry is not among your choices then?"

"That would be an underpaying prison!"

Dumbledore chuckled as he realised just how similar their disposition towards the Ministry was. "I have a question then, Harry. If you so truly wish to be discreet, why then did you insist that we reveal the Sword to the Minister?"

"We already know that they will demand to know how the Basilisk was killed. It won't remain a secret for long. Those that could..."

"Put you on a pedestal," prompted Sirius.

"Yes; such people would do it anyway. But this will ensure that when I attempt to do something constructive and new, this Vow that I volunteer for, and the way that people's perception of me shall change once they know I wield the Sword, much of the red tapes will be cut."

"That is a bit selfish."

"I cannot deny that. But I have no plans to be a spiritual leader or something, the only people who are suited to true altruism. Anyway, each of my planned professions, barring Quidditch and duelling, has end results that benefit the people."

"Do you honestly believe that people will leave you alone? Forget about others; there is still the problem of Voldemort."

"Well, I have people to guide me."

Dumbledore started chuckling immoderately. "Such are the delusions of youth! Nobody will leave you alone, Harry. This will not and cannot remain quiet. Somehow, somewhere there will always be someone to pull you into a confrontation."

"We are assuming that such things shall ever come to pass sir, when in fact, the only thing that matters is destroying Lucius Malfoy; and he should be successfully exposed first. And I am a student, which is what I will be for the foreseeable future."

"Very good," commented Dumbledore. "Most lose the touch of reality in the grandeur of plans. You know well enough that I was guilty of it myself in your first year. It is quite like the Imperius Curse in that way. Unless the voice of reality holds us back, we lose control, and there starts the slippery slope that leads to a permanent downfall."

"I understand, sir."

"Good, now you are prepared, I take it?"

"Yes."

"Rehearse what you mean to say. Do that in front of a mirror if you must. They did it a bit too rigidly, but learn from our adversaries. Timing is everything."

"Yes sir. Perhaps this is a boast, but I will admit to learning from our adversaries on another. There is reason to believe that they may have some similar contingencies for us."

"In what way?" Remus questioned. "I thought that they have set aside any differences..."

"Lucius Malfoy is an opportunist of the first order – remember, this is the same man who chose the opportunity that was afforded by the Weasleys being in the Alley on the same day as he was to slip the diary to Ginny, never mind the opportunity afforded by the crowds for Lockhart," Harry explained. "What were the odds? It is obvious he was going to slip it to someone that day. The opportunity was in him using the daughter of the one person who was pursuing a fair persecution. We want him exposed to the others. That does not mean he will try something similar or that the rest won't suddenly support him."

"Even where matters of their children's lives stand?" wondered Remus.

"Yes."

"I am sure Alastor Moody would appreciate such an outlook," Dumbledore remarked. "Nonetheless, it is only prudent to prepare for such a scenario."

Sirius and Harry resolutely nodded, while Remus frowned.

"Talking of prudence," Sirius followed up, "it would be very prudent to pacify Andromeda. She is singularly unhappy with the Unbreakable Vow business. My attempts at explanations and pacification have fallen on ears that refuse to hear, and she has accused me of lying and manipulating Harry."

"I shall speak to her," Dumbledore offered, even as he chuckled internally at the singularly ridiculous idea of _**Sirius** _ manipulating _ **Harry**_. "It is understandable that she worries as the prospective guardian, but this decision to make the situation inescapable for Lucius establishes Harry's image as a righteous wizard of integrity and with the backdrop of the sword and the basilisk, one of great power also, as we were discussing. This cannot be passed up."

* * *

Hermione's insistence regarding keeping some time aside each evening to read the papers Harry did and to know more about what was going on, and to understand the implications of each event – after completing their academic assignments for the day – meant that the group now habitually reserved one of the study rooms where people could speak normally. It was a considerable distance they had come from the children they were only six months before. Over the course of time since they had been brought in on the machinations of their friend, all three teenagers had changed.

Neville recognised the responsibilities that he had to one day shoulder, and saw this phase as one of learning. He saw the role he had, and what he learnt by observation, one of his innate skills, as the training phase for when he would have to replace his grandmother. While there were many things that he did not truly know enough about to take up any position, he nevertheless saw himself supporting Harry long-term – not just because they were friends, but also because he felt he owed Harry for the justice he had brought to the Longbottoms. In it he had started to shed his tendency to hide, and had started to face things – starting from Potions classes.

Hermione had a bit of an activist streak, one which needed to be carefully handled, lest her activism become imbalanced, divorced from reality, too incognisant of all aspects of any matter that she chose to devote her attention to. She had to be protected from becoming the parody of activism that many so-called activists end up becoming – aimless, meaningless and protesting just for the sake of protesting, accusing, losing their minds, temper, apparent sanity, dignity, shouting out their opinions instead of resorting to sensible discourse, and refusing to recognise the simple idea that opinions of different people may, can, and do, differ, and that there is never a single, universal "right" or "truth".

An increased interaction with Neville – rooted in traditions, but not blinded by them – had made her question, and slowly starve, her own sapling of prejudice that she felt towards magicals in general along with that of the reactionary muggle superiority that many muggle-borns had. It was not completely unfounded as much as it was misplaced. Many muggle-borns had the tendency to generalise all pure-bloods as racist, forgetting people like Sirius and Neville for starters, and in the process, becoming racist themselves. They had broken that. It was still difficult for her to accept being wrong, so she was cultivating the habit of not taking a stand till she knew truly enough about as many sides of the story as she could.

But more than either of those two, it was Ron who was changing the most. Often overlooked for having nothing that distinguished him from others, Ron had his own way of learning things. Learning more from pictures, from positions on the chessboard however impossible, and from experiences, he had come to realise that he needed to grow up.

This was not a reflection on him as a person, but a reflection on the environment he grew up in; coming from a "progressive" family which broadly translated to indiscriminate shame about everything pure-blood, Mr. Weasley's enthusiastic but ignorant fascination with all things muggle, ingrained with Mrs. Weasley's personal prejudices since the death of her brothers, a deep sense of shame regarding the family's poverty as well as his own perceived unremarkable nature, and a childhood with no real responsibilities.

But incidents like Harry's defence of Mr. Weasley, the exoneration of Sirius Black, as well as being trusted enough to be given a role as he would be again, but most importantly, being explained things to, had led him to re-examine things. He had recognised the imbalanced view of things he took. He was still the immature teen he was, but he was making the effort to control his legendary temper, to always understand first before blindly reacting, and to take responsibility, especially regarding education within the scope of his abilities, as well as to cast aside his learnt prejudices. Truly, Ron was growing. Here he was seen as something important, and it motivated him enough to pitch in as much as he knew to do.

So when they now observed Slytherins, it was no longer with the perpetual Snape-worthy sneer that was evoked previously. Ron now saw them as chess pieces of no defined colour yet, which was great progress considering he once thought of the students as "baby Death Eaters" – not untrue where Malfoy went, but not universally true of all Slytherins either.

"We are in the penultimate lap now," Harry gravely observed, as Neville, Ron and Hermione sat attentively, listening to the new developments in the matter. "All of you have contributed wonderfully according to Professor Dumbledore." That pleased the three children greatly. "But now, there is a role, till the day of the expose, for only one person. Are you ready, Ron?"

"Yes. Just tell me what to do."

"We are going to play on their house-based inanity. They _know_ that all Gryffindors are stupid idiots who wear their agendas, hearts and brains on their sleeves. We might as well use that."

The simple course of action had Ron frowning at first, a bit irritated, and then, upon being reminded why, grinning.

* * *

8th June, 1994

It was usual for mixed classes to break into house-based groups once they left the classrooms. So it was completely unremarkable when, after the year's last Herbology lecture which included all four Houses for the specific plant, the rambunctious Gryffindors went their separate way from the carefully sedate Slytherins. If the Gryffindor boys, including Neville, Ron and Harry, were walking more closely to the Slytherins, it was...purely coincidental.

Neville ribbed Ron about something and got a headlock in response, before he pushed Ron into the Slytherins...accidentally, even as the rest laughed. This had the effect of knocking down Daphne Greengrass and Theo Nott, along with their bags, which lay strewn on the Ron. Scowling immediately and reaching for their wands as they anticipated a confrontation with the "idiots", knowing Weasley would never apologise, they were astounded to find Weasley gathering their things up carefully along with Longbottom and handing them their bags.

"Eh, sorry for that," Ron apologised. "We knocked you over accidentally, got a bit carried away."

"Yeah, we should've been a bit more careful," Neville added.

Nott and Greengrass dumbly nodded, but as was expected, the ever-confrontational Malfoy had to butt in. Standing in a way as to block them all, he growled at his housemates.

"What are you doing?" he snarled at the duo. "They pushed you down!"

"And?" asked Greengrass, regaining her vulnerable composure admirably fast. "They apologised and helped pick our things up."

"They must have stolen something!"

Ron didn't need to feign the anger at that.

"They haven't," Nott responded before that line of accusations could be further pursued.

"Well than they must have put something in to incriminate you for something."

"I am not a bastard like your father, Malfoy!" Ron retorted. "I am no child-murdering fiend like him! I don't slip stuff into someone else's hands or bags, or, you know, books."

"You take that back!" snapped Malfoy.

"Why?" snapped back Ron. "Does the truth hurt? Are you going to have something worse for us than you father had in store for us last year?" he very wonderfully needled the boy, throwing the words Draco himself had used a while before.

Typically, with no retort left, Draco turned to his stock response. "When my father hears of this..."

"Yeah, go on, tell him. What's he going to do?" asked Harry, jumping in, as planned. "That was a rhetorical question, by the way. I don't know whether you understand that. Even Sirius knows what your filthy father is now, Malfoy. How does it feel to be the stupid son of a filthy child-murderer?"

Draco growled and was about to send a curse their way, when Professor Sprout turned up. Sending the Gryffindors a last scathing look, Draco flounced off. The rest of the Slytherins traded speculative looks between themselves, the Gryffindors and the retreating back of Malfoy, before they left as well.

"Excellent!" Harry whispered to his friend, as they exchanged a clap.

Ron only grinned.

* * *

Sure enough, Dobby reported the letter being sent to his former master later that night. In reality, Malfoy had sent it off immediately after the altercation. Dobby had the technically unethical duty of withholding it till dinnertime. It was done. Now they had the big day to look forward to.

"You really think Malfoy will react to this?" Ron asked. "I thought he could treat it as something beneath his notice."

"It is like a wood splinter Ron. If we keep tightening the screw beyond a limit, the wood splinters. There was a reason why we got the story to his...allies...before he even knew this matter was there to cause a problem. He wanted Sirius to run from pillar-to-post dousing fires. Now his pillars and his posts are all on fire. He will break."

"If you say so," Ron agreed doubtfully.

"I do, Ron, I do; it is not just little-boy-Malfoy, but also Greengrass and Nott who have sent letters home. Malfoy senior has to be lured into the trap, and they are all it. We actually haven't invited him to the rendering. He needs to be motivated enough to come there."

"I won't even pretend to understand that, but I'll be happy if it works," Ron simply accepted.

* * *

Predictably, poor Lucius Malfoy was triggered. What Ron said had to be spoken in the presence of someone who could get that back to someone like Greengrass (a part of the so-called neutral faction; it was a myth) or Nott (a person still considered by the terrorist as an ally). And the addition of Draco's own very incriminating quote was a brilliant thing that Harry had not even remembered.

As such, Lucius called upon Obsidian Gardens to talk to Sirius, whom Harry had mentioned. The sight of the person who opened the door for him had him sneering.

"If you want to say something, say it fast, Lucius. I have no intention of standing here and waiting for you to stop sneering long enough to say anything that makes sense," Andromeda stated in a curt tone.

"Where is Black?" demanded Malfoy equally curtly.

"Sirius is at Hogwarts, as you very well must know. It is something to do with the rendering of the beast in the Chamber of Secrets. All the allies came in this morning with the Wizengamot warrant..." Then she trailed off, and a cold smile adorned her face as she reminded him, "Ah, I forgot. You are no longer on the Wizengamot, are you? No wonder you don't know about that."

Lucius' blood ran cold. Without even the courtesy of a farewell, he ran to the edge of the wards and apparated straight to Hogwarts.

* * *

This became a chapter because I lost control and had to wrestle it back. A note to self: never write when irritated by self-proclaimed liberals.

I took the Olympiads idea from " **Put into Lifetime Detention by Death** ", our statistically flagship story, and the first one that the late and actual Harmonious Cannons wrote. It is also a story that seems irritating in many ways to many people, in spite of it clearly being a parody-through-imitation with the simple formula: "Take something outrageous and make it even more outrageous and unbelievable."


End file.
